


like you need it to survive

by scully_carter



Category: Hamilton (Miranda)
Genre: Alcoholism, Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern AU, More tags to be added, Pining, Slow Burn, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 28,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scully_carter/pseuds/scully_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>im jamilton trash<br/>please forgive me for writing this Lin</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the entire time I was writing this I gotta admit I felt a little bit of shame seeing as I'm Canadian and I'm basically writing fanfiction abt two American dudes who have been dead for 200+ years
> 
> a few housekeeping notes before you read...  
> this first chapter has some mentions of blood and other injuries, so just a warning in case that makes anyone uncomfortable in any way  
> this is rated Teen bc of language mostly  
> also like I said I'm Canadian (eh) so I most likely used the Canadian spellings of words like 'favourite' and 'colour' #sorrynotsorry  
> there might be some spelling/grammar errors I apologize I do edit but I can be kinda lazy  
> feel free to comment like all writers I love to hear from my readers!!
> 
> if anyone needs me I'll be in the trash where I belong

**horse fucker:** laf got in a fight  
**horse fucker:** it's pretty bad  
**horse fucker:** the police are here  
**_to:_ horse fucker:** where are u??  
**horse fucker:** the usual place  
**horse fucker:** that Irish bar the clover or somethin  
**horse fucker:** fuck this i don't even remember I'm drunk and I can't see the name  
**horse fucker:** the clover has 3 leaves though  
**_to:_ horse fucker:** it's called a shamrock when it has 3 leaves u uncultured swine  
**_to:_ horse fucker:** wait aren't u Irish??  
**_to:_ horse fucker:** whatever I'm on my way

A police car was parked outside the bar when Alexander arrived, the lights from the siren painting the city street blue, then red, then blue, flashing rapidly enough to give Alex a headache.

He hurried forward, scanning the crowd that had gathered, most of them smelling strongly of alcohol, calling out Mulligan's name when he caught a glimpse of his friend's familiar face. "How did it happen?" he asked, shouldering through the crowd to Herc's side.

"Some guy insulted me, and, well, you know Laf." Mulligan explained, shrugging. Alex did. Lafayette was loyal to a fault, and extremely protective of his friends. The Frenchman was like a tall, curly-haired German Shepherd.

"Where is Laf? Is he really hurt?"

Mulligan jerked his chin in the direction of the cruiser. Laf was leaning against the car, arms crossed over his chest and blood dribbling from his nose. The police officer was holding handcuffs, probably to arrest Laf, and seemed to be arguing with...

"Wait, is that Jefferson?" Alexander demanded. Mulligan nodded. "I think Gil called him." Catching Alexander glaring at Jefferson, Mulligan nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, don't forget, Thomas is Lafayette's friend, too."

Jefferson glanced over at Mulligan and Alex, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the latter. He started toward them, crossing the distance in long, loping strides.

"They're not going to arrest him." Jefferson announced, his Southern accent more noticeable than usual, surprising Alexander. It was almost as if Jefferson was worried about Lafayette, if he'd been capable of feeling any human emotion at all.

Mulligan looked relieved. "Thank god." He shook his head at Laf as limped over to join them. "I'm gonna kill you." he growled, pulling Laf into a hug. "You _imbécile_."

"I'll drive you idiots home." Jefferson offered, fishing his car keys out of his pocket.

Mulligan released Lafayette, who nodded and thanked Jefferson. Alexander gently bumped his hip against Laf's as they walked side-by-side to Jefferson's car.

"You okay? _Est-ce que tu vas bien_?" he asked, not bothering to berate Laf. He was sure to get an earful from Mulligan when they got home.

" _Oui. Un peu amoché, mais je suis d'accord._ " Laf mumbled, reaching up to wipe the blood from his swollen nose. His whole face was a patchwork of black and blue bruises, cuts, and swollen red flesh. He looked awful. Alex wordlessly pulled a crumpled tissue out of his pocket and handed it to his friend. " _Merci_." Laf said quietly, dabbing at a bloody patch on his upper lip.

Jefferson turned to look back at them, slowing his pace so Laf, who was still limping, could catch up. "Here." he said, handing the Frenchman a handkerchief. "That might work better." His voice was almost kind. Impossible. Thomas Jefferson was pure evil in human form. Also, who the fuck carries a handkerchief? Pretentious ass.

Jefferson held the car door open for Hercules and Lafayette, who sat together in the back seat, Laf's head in Herc's lap, which left Alexander to sit up front with Jefferson.

The drive was spent in tense, awkward silence. What are you supposed to talk about with your sworn political enemy? Alexander wondered. Most small talk depended on either the weather or something equally trivial, or common interests, something he and Jefferson had none of. They agreed on nothing, were always fighting, constantly finding new ways to piss each other off. Did that count as a common interest?

Mulligan and Laf's apartment was closest, so Jefferson dropped them off first.

"Thanks, Thomas." Mulligan said again, helping Lafayette clamber out of the car. Laf tried to give Jefferson his handkerchief back, but the Southerner shied away from the harmless piece of fabric, which was now stained with Laf's blood. "Keep it, it's fine." he said, putting the car back into drive.

Alex waved at his friends through the windshield as they drove away.

"What's the matter, Thomas, scared of a little blood?" Alex teased.

"That was a very expensive handkerchief." Thomas muttered.

"Ah, so you're not only a pretentious ass who carries around a fucking handkerchief, you're also a rich snob. If you have so much money, can't you just...buy a new handkerchief?"

Without even looking at Alex, Jefferson flipped him off. They didn't speak again until Jefferson pulled up at Alexander's building. "It's this one, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Thanks. Y'know, for the ride, and for helping out Laf." Alex said.

"It's not like I did it for you." Jefferson replied stiffly.

Alex rolled his eyes. "I know. Just, I appreciate it. Laf's a good friend."

"Yeah."

"Goodnight, Thomas."

"Since when are we on a first name basis?"

"Goodnight, dickhead."

Was it just him, or did Jefferson smile at that? "Goodnight, Hamilton."

* * *

 

When Alexander checked his phone before bed, he had a collection of texts he really didn't feel like answering.

 **with a comma after dearest:** you still on for tomorrow??

 **best of women:** hey alex, hope you’re coming 2morrow  
**best of women:** we missed you last wk!!

 **my dear laurens:** would hate for u to miss the movie tomorrow  
**my dear laurens:** u can pick if you want  
**my dear laurens:** I know u r awake alex :/ pls text me back

Instead of replying, he shut his phone off and turned on his laptop, hoping to get some work done before morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Maybe Angelica was right. Maybe he didn't worry about himself enough.'

Around 5AM, Alexander made a cup of coffee, guzzled it down, and returned to where his laptop sat, waiting, on his desk.

20,000 words later, around 10AM, he showered, pulled his wet hair into a messy bun, and made another cup of coffee. He was about to get back to work when his phone, which he'd left on silent, began to vibrate. He picked it up. Angelica. With a sigh, he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Alexander Hamilton, why haven't you been answering my texts?" she demanded, not even bothering with a hello.

"Your...your texts...uh, I was...I was working."

"All night?" Angelica asked. "Alexander."

"Not...all night."

"How long has it been since you slept?"

He counted in his head. "Maybe three or four days? Maybe longer?"

" _Alexander_."

"What?"

"You need to sleep. I know you were worried about Laf last night, and you’re stressed about work or whatever-"

"I’m fine." Alex protested.

"Alex."

"Ange, I'm fine." He just wanted her to leave him alone so he could get back to his work. He had to finish his report for Washington, had to finish drafting his debt plan, had to write his speech for the visit from the French ambassador-

" _Alexander. Hamilton._ I'm coming over. Eliza too. With food, since you probably haven't eaten.”

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten since yesterday. Alex heard Eliza mumble something on the other end, and the sound of Angelica shushing her.

"Angelica, you don't-" he started to say, but Angelica had already hung up.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Alexander opened it, wearing pajama pants and his hair still wet from his shower. Eliza hurried forward to give him a hug.

"Hi." she said, releasing her grip on him and holding him at arm's length. She wore an expression of gentle concern. Her ‘nurse smile,’ the one she used on patients. The smile that said, ‘it's okay, you're safe, I'm gonna take care of you.’

"I'm fine." he insisted, shrugging her off. She smiled knowingly, then gestured at the grocery bag Angelica was holding up. "We brought snacks."

Angelica breezed past him and into the living room. Angelica was the sort of person, who, once she got started on something, you were more or less powerless to stop her, kind of like a tidal wave, so Alexander followed her in and joined her on the couch, where they snuggled up with the bag of white cheddar popcorn the sisters had brought.

Eliza had taken out his bun and was running her fingers through his hair, winding it into braids, the way she used to back when they were together, in college, and he'd go to her dorm exhausted after a long day of classes.

Alex sighed and sank back into the couch, resting his head on Angelica's shoulder. With careful, light fingers, Eliza brushed the braids out of his hair and began anew, humming under her breath as she did so.

“You guys didn't have to-”

“For the last time, Alex, shut your big mouth for once and let us worry about you. You need someone to worry about you, because you sure as hell don't seem to worry about yourself.” Angelica snapped.

The Schuyler sisters drove him to Laf and Mulligan's place. If not for Angelica's incessant nagging, he probably would have forgotten that today was Saturday.

He still felt guilty about last week. He'd totally blown off his friends and their Saturday movie night plans, a tradition they'd kept up since college, and gone out drinking instead, coming home piss drunk and then working himself to death the rest of the weekend, freaking them all out.

Maybe Angelica was right. Maybe he didn't worry about himself enough.

Eliza audibly gasped when Lafayette opened the door, smiling brightly even though his face was about five different shades of purple and there was a gauze bandage taped to his forehead.

Then again, maybe he wasn't the only one who wasn't concerned enough about his wellbeing, he thought with a wry smile.

"Laf! Oh my goodness!" Eliza cried.

" _Tu regarde terrible! Comment vas tu sentir?_ " Alex asked, smiling faintly at Eliza's concern.

"I'm fine, Eliza. It looks worse than it feels, _crois moi._ " Laf reassured her, ushering them into the apartment.

" _Tu regarde très horrible aussi, Alexander. Est-ce que tu vas bien_?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just not sleeping well." Alex replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He didn't need Laf worrying about him too when he looked like someone had given his face a high-five with a frying pan.

" _Je suis désolé, mon ami._ It was my fault you were up so late hier soir." Laf said, his mournful expression akin to that of a sad puppy. "I am glad you came to my aid last night, Alex, but you need to take care of yourself first."

"Well, I wasn't gonna leave you by yourself with Jefferson." Alex joked. Laf's brow furrowed in a tiny frown. "I know you and Thomas do not always agree, but he is also my friend, so please, _faire attention à ce qui tu dites._ "

"Wait," Angelica asked, her lips curving in a sly smile. Alexander didn't like that look. "Jefferson was there last night?"

"Yeah...he drove us home. And, uh, made sure Laf didn't get arrested." Alex told her, growing more reluctant with every word as Angelica's evil little smirk widened.

"What about Thomas?" Mulligan asked, barging into the apartment, bringing the delicious aroma of takeout and the youngest Schuyler sister with him.

"Hercules, _ma chère!_ " Laf exclaimed, descending upon Mulligan. "And Peggy!" Peggy muttered indignantly from behind Herc.

"You brought pizza! Merci, _ma chère. Ça sent délicieux!_ "

"Really though, what about Thomas?" Mulligan pressed, chuckling as he peeled a very clingy Laf off of him.

Angelica shrugged. "Nothing. Just that...well, I think Alex and-"

Alex's eyes felt like they were gonna bug out of his head when he realized what Angelica was getting at. "No. No way. Angelica, how could you even-I hate the man!" he spluttered.

Mulligan was smiling and nodding, though.

Alexander buried his face in his hands.

They were interrupted by another knock at the door, and Eliza jumped up to answer it, probably hoping that it would be Maria. Instead, Aaron Burr strode into the living room. "Why does Alexander look like he's repeatedly stabbing all of you in his head?" he wondered, claiming a seat on the couch next to Angelica, who arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

"We're discussing his love life." Peggy explained. Alex felt his face burning.

“What love life?” Burr snorted.

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for,” Alex said accusingly. The remark had stung. He and Eliza hadn't worked out, on account of them both being really gay, and whatever he'd had with John hadn't worked either. They were better off as friends. “They're trying to set me up with Jefferson.”

Burr blinked. “You hate Jefferson.”

“Mind you, hate and love aren't really opposites.” Peggy giggled when Alex’s face started to go red with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “Indifference is the opposite of love. Hate is a _passionate_ emotion, as is love.” she said, clutching her chest dramatically.

Alex groaned, flipped all of them off, and shoved his face into the throw pillows. "Aw, leave poor Alex alone." Eliza chastised.

"Thank you." Alex said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Maria and Laurens arrived soon after, and the conversation thankfully moved on to things that didn't concern either Alex nor Jefferson, nor Alex and Jefferson. And now that everyone was here Herc let them have their pizza. Alexander realized suddenly how hungry he was, and wolfed down three slices.

“You want the rest of mine?” Laurens asked, holding out the remaining half of his second slice of pizza.

“Only one and a half slices? Weak.” Alex chided, taking a bite. John laughed. “I'm glad you came tonight. You really had us worried last week.” he said quietly, his adorable freckled nose scrunched up as his face became suddenly serious.

“Sorry.” Alex mumbled.

“Just...don't do that again, ‘kay?” Laurens said, putting a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I figured I'd go ahead and get this up chapter 3 will probably be up tomorrow
> 
> Alex is pretty much an honorary Schuyler sister lol
> 
> hmu on tumblr if you wanna chat @starkscully


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He hated Hamilton, hated the way the man knew just how to push all of his buttons, how to piss him off and get him all riled up and ready for a fight, and most of he hated how Hamilton made him feel.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally a chapter that includes Jefferson's POV!!
> 
> thank you so much for your kind comments and I hope everyone's enjoying this

“So what’s tonight’s movie gonna be?” Peggy asked.

Alexander sat bolt upright, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, Alex no-” Angelica started to protest as Alex burst out, “National Treasure!”

After a chorus of groans and complaints, they all settled down on the couch, Alexander squashed between Maria and Eliza who were cuddling and being all sappy and romantic, and Angelica. Aaron had tried to claim a spot beside Angelica, but she'd propped her feet up on the arm of the couch, leaving nowhere for him to sit.

God, Burr, take a hint… Alex thought. If he closed his eyes for a split second he could almost imagine the weight of Angelica’s head in his lap was John instead. But John was sitting with Herc and Laf, his feet in Herc’s lap, his head on Laf’s shoulder.

Alex felt a pang of longing, suddenly feeling very lonely even though he was surrounded by his friends. It seemed like they all had someone, and Alex had no one. Not anymore, anyway.

“I know him! Nicolas Cage!” Lafayette cried out, pointing at the screen. Mulligan and Laurens burst out laughing.

Hamilton smiled over at his best friend, who smiled back. 

* * *

  
It was nearly eleven o’clock on a Saturday night and Thomas Jefferson couldn't sleep. He had an essay on state policy issues due by the end of next week, and even though he was already nearly finished, the essay was still on his mind, nagging at him as he tossed and turned in bed, somehow unable to get comfortable.

Jefferson could almost hear Hamilton taunting him. _Pssh. Only you could be lying in your king-sized rich-person bed, wrapped in your silk sheets, and still be uncomfortable._

He sighed. Of course he'd be thinking of that annoying, conceited, smart-ass on a night like this, with his snide, brash words and his voice, hoarse yet melodious, and his hair, which looked so silky-soft Thomas was often tempted to ask what shampoo Hamilton used-

_Okay, woah._ Thomas launched himself out of bed and padded across to his desk, the thick shag carpet soft on his bare feet, opening his laptop, the screen harshly bright in the dark bedroom, hurting Thomas’ eyes they tried to adjust. He sat, shoved his glasses on, and opened the document containing his state policy essay, determined to think of something other than the infuriating little asshole Treasury Secretary.

He didn't recall falling asleep, but he woke up the next morning still sitting at his desk, head resting on his arm and glasses askew. His laptop was in sleep mode, and when he sluggishly jiggled the cursor, he saw he'd more or less completed the essay. Making a mental note to edit it later—who knew what mistakes he’d made in his half-asleep state last night—he got up, stretched then shuffled into the bathroom to take a shower.

He turned the shower as cold as it could go, in the hopes that the freezing water might help wake him up a little. Maybe it would even wash away his indecorous, wanton thoughts about Hamilton.

_Oh, those are some pretty big words. Sure you know what they mean, Thomas?_

“Don't call me Thomas.” he muttered, shaking his head at himself as he realized he was talking to no one, then finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and switched off the shower. He dried quickly, wrapped a towel around his waist, the scent of his sandalwood shampoo still clinging to his damp hair as he rifled through his closet for his favourite pair of sweatpants. Hey, it was Sunday morning and he had nowhere to be.

As he was getting dressed, his phone buzzed from where it rested on the nightstand. He snatched it up, read the text, and thumbed out a quick reply.

**Angelica Schuyler:** hey we’re having a party for Eliza’s bday next Friday night you should come   
**_To:_ Angelica Schuyler: **not sure I'd be welcome   
**_Angelica Schuyler is typing…_**  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** don't be stupid you’re only saying that cause Alex is gonna be there  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** you two fight like 5 year olds honestly   
**_To:_ Angelica Schuyler:** pretty sure I'm a lot smarter than a five year old  
 ** _To:_ Angelica Schuyler:** not so sure about Hamilton though  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** real mature Tom….this is exactly what I'm talking about  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** anyway I think you should come it'll be fun  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** Lafayette is gonna be there too so you won't be totally alone   
**Angelica Schuyler:** ooh and Burr  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** you two can bother Alex together   
**_To:_ Angelica Schuyler: **ha ha.   
**_To:_ Angelica Schuyler: **I'll think about it...  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** okay great!! I'll send you the details later

Thomas sighed and set the phone down.

_What’s the matter, Jefferson? Too shy to go to the party? Too nervous?_

As much as he hated to admit it, spending an evening with a group of people he barely knew did not sound like fun to Thomas.

Well, no, he knew Lafayette, and Angelica.

But he wasn't friends with the rest of them, wasn't comfortable around the rest of them. They knew him as the Thomas Jefferson who was poised, sophisticated, sociable, not the Thomas Jefferson whose palms began to sweat every time he made eye contact with a stranger in public.

Hamilton was another unwanted variable in this equation. He’d be seeing Hamilton outside of work, a thought that made his skin crawl. Though, it wouldn't be the first time.

He thought back to Friday night, remembering the strong, acrid smell of beer in the air, Lafayette’s bruised and bleeding face looking even worse in the flashing lights from the police car, and Hamilton had been standing in the middle of the chaos in sweatpants and a t-shirt so worn out the logo on the front was unreadable. His hair was a greasy mess, pulled back into a hasty ponytail, and his face had had an angry set to it. He looked so tired, so worn down, and Thomas had had a strange urge to brush his fingers along Hamilton’s stubble-lined cheek with a gentle hand, to wipe that irritated expression right off his soft face.

_No. Stop that._ Thomas pushed the image out of his mind. He hated Hamilton, hated the way the man knew just how to push all of his buttons, how to piss him off and get him all riled up and ready for a fight, and most of he hated how Hamilton made him feel. This was exactly why he was dreading that party.

He needed...he needed to distract himself. Breakfast, he decided, was an excellent idea right now, then he'd finish editing his essay. As for the party...well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for forgetting to update yesterday I was out with friends all afternoon/evening please don't hate me

“Hamilton.”

Alexander didn't look up from his laptop. He didn't need to. He knows who he’d see if he did; Satan himself. He’d recognize that snarky Southern drawl anywhere. “Piss off, Jefferson.” he said, fingers continuing to fly across the keyboard at an almost alarming speed as he typed.

“Hello to you, too.” Jefferson quipped, strolling into Hamilton’s office.

“Get out of my office.” Alex said through gritted teeth, still not looking up from his work. He was drafting his latest amendment to the national debt plan to present to the Cabinet in today’s meeting, and he had to finish it before he lost his idea. The words were like that sometimes, slipping away from him like water trickling through cupped fingers.

“Hmm. No.” Jefferson said, his tone decisive. “I need to ask you something.”

“Like I'd ever do you any favours.” Alexander muttered. _...Without the...definite? No...express...implementation of the above described plan…_

Jefferson kept talking, apparently unaware that Alex was now only half listening to him. “I was just wondering if I need to buy Eliza a gift. For the birthday party.”

 _...the nation will undoubtedly...no, inevitably...continue to accumulate debt..._ wait, what? Alex’s fingers froze, poised above the computer keys. “What? How did you-Who told you-” he stammered, head snapping up to stare at Jefferson, who grinned and cocked an eyebrow mockingly. “Oh, Angelica didn't tell you? She invited me. Nice of her, right?”

“Angelica? First Lafayette, now Angelica? Who are you gonna turn against me next, Peggy?” Alex demanded. Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Don't be childish. Your friends _are_ allowed to have other friends, you know. And you still haven't answered my question.”

A gift. _Shit_. Alex still needed to get Eliza a gift. “No, don't bother. I'm sure gracing us with your presence will be enough for Eliza.”

Jefferson scoffed and sailed out of Alexander’s office without another word, riding the wind out of there on his frigate-sized ego.

Alex shook his head and sighed before returning to his debt plan.

The Cabinet meeting went terribly. Not only did Jefferson berate him at every chance he got, his debt plan was criticized and denied several times over. He left the Cabinet room in a foul mood, not even bothering to attempt to cuss out Jefferson when he passed him on his way out the door. Instead, he returned to his office and attacked the draft of his debt plan, writing like a man possessed. He had to fix it. It had to be faultless. Then Jefferson wouldn't dare oppose him.

He didn't even notice how late it had gotten when there was a knock on his office door.

“Who is it?” he asked, glancing up. His eyes were burning from staring at the computer screen for so long.

“Jefferson.” came the reply.

“Ugh. No. Fuck off.” Hamilton cried. But Jefferson opened the door anyway. “What do you want now?” he demanded crossly.

"I was on my way out and I saw the light on in your office. Figured I'd come bother you one more time before heading out."

"Well, you've succeeded. I'm extremely annoyed. Will you please fuck off now?" Alexander pleaded, dragging his hands through his hair, exasperated. “I have to finish this…”

Jefferson sighed. “Why do you write like you're running out of time? Have you even eaten dinner yet?”

"Why do you care?" Alex mumbled. He looked up again, eyes narrowed. “You're still here? I seem to recall asking you to leave?”

Jefferson was leaned against the doorframe, long legs stretched out in front of him languidly, muscled arms crossed over his chest, smirking at Alex. He raised an eyebrow. "No." he replied, something about his tone annoyingly final. "I'm not about to let you work all night. You already look like shit. You're obviously exhausted. Let me drive you home."

"I have to finish this..." Alexander protested.

"Whatever it is, it can wait until morning." Jefferson said, insistent, straightening up and stalking across the office, looking for all the world like he was going to pick Alexander up and drag him out of there if he had to.

Surprised by his persistence, Alexander sighed and closed his laptop. "Fine. Fine." he grumbled, hurriedly grabbing his coat and stuck his phone into his pocket. "Let's go." he said, shoving his way past Jefferson and out of his office. 

* * *

"Alright," Thomas said, pulling up in front of the curb. Hamilton didn't reply, made no move to get out of the car. Jefferson leaned over.

Hamilton was asleep, head falling forward on his chest, snoring quietly.

"Oh, my God." Thomas breathed, with a soft chuckle.

He thought about waking Hamilton up, but the poor man hadn't been sleeping well lately, even Jefferson could see that. That and how relaxed Hamilton's face was in sleep, that tense, worried furrow between his brows gone, everything about his expression weirdly calm—Hamilton, an unstoppable hurricane of a man, finally calm—made him stop and reconsider waking Alexander.

"I can't believe I'm doing this..." Thomas muttered, getting out of the car and going around to the passenger side. He wrenched open the door, and still shaking his head at himself—fucking Hamilton just had to fucking fall asleep in his car, didn't he?—he scooped the sleeping man into his arms.

Hamilton stirred, but didn't wake up. He just mumbled something incoherent and curled closer to Jefferson, resting his head on the taller man's chest.

Thomas almost smiled, felt his heart give a little flutter beneath his ribs.

 _Fucking Hamilton,_ he thought angrily.

He managed to make it up to Hamilton's apartment without waking him up, the weight of the smaller man in his arms becoming almost...familiar, comforting even.  
  
He paid little attention to the interior of the apartment, simply found Hamilton's bedroom and laid him down on the bed. He thought for sure Hamilton would wake up then, but he stayed fast asleep.

Jefferson tucked him in, unable to keep that soft, tender little smile off his face any longer. _Fucking Hamilton..._ he thought again. And then, hesitantly, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from Hamilton’s face.

He had half a mind to crawl into bed with Hamilton, which was stupid. Instead, he left Hamilton's apartment without giving the quietly sleeping man so much as another glance.

* * *

**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** what the fuck????  
**trashcan jefferson:** for the love of all things holy, Hamilton. it's not even 6 am yet what do you want  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson: ** did u drug me???  
**trashcan jefferson:** what the hell are you talking about?  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** i don't know, u tell me!!! I woke up this morning in bed in my apartment  
**trashcan jefferson:** ...and that's a problem why??  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** bc I can't remember how I got here??!! did u roofie me or somethin???  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson: **well??  
**_trashcan jefferson is typing…_**  
**trashcan jefferson:** of course I didn't fucking ‘roofie’ you. might've shut you up for once though.  
**trashcan jefferson:** you fell asleep in my car. I brought you up to your apartment. would you have rathered I brought you home to my place?  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** ...oh.  
**trashcan jefferson:** you're welcome, by the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly I think that chapter was one of my favourites to write 
> 
> also, a disclaimer, I know exactly zero things abt American politics so please just pretend like I know what I'm talking about
> 
> thank you all so much for your kind comments I love hearing from everyone it's very encouraging ily all so much


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Goddamn it, Hamilton. It's ass o’clock in the fucking morning and you want me to drive your drunk ass home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I forgot to update again I'm sorry and I will try harder next time 
> 
> Ham can't text when he's drunk lmao

It had been a long day at work. He was getting behind on his work, and the Cabinet was still actively opposing his debt plan, thanks to Jefferson. Jefferson. Jefferson who had offered to drive him home the other night, who had showed up at the bar to help Lafayette, who had come by that afternoon to toss a sandwich onto Alex’s desk from the expensive deli down the street because “I know you haven't eaten yet.”

Since when did Jefferson take notice of whether or not Alexander was eating? Since when did Jefferson care? That wasn't like him at all. Hamilton was used to Jefferson calling him out, challenging him on just about every subject, as if he was arguing with him just for the sake of arguing with him, because surely his political views weren't that stupid.

He was used to an arrogant, stuck-up, egotistical, hostile, opinionated Jefferson, not a Jefferson who cared about him.

Feeling overworked, confused, and lonely, and not liking how his mind immediately went to Jefferson when he realized he was feeling the latter, Alexander found himself back at the Shamrock bar for the second time in the past two weeks, drinking himself into a stupor, trying to make the jittery sensation of stress and just his anxiety in general go away.

He lost count of how many cheap beers he'd had, and was arguing loudly with the stranger sitting beside him about something-honestly, he couldn't even remember what anymore-when the bartender firmly refused to refill his glass.

“Oh, come on…” Alex whined, slamming his empty glass down on the bar.

“No way, man. You've had way too many. You look like you're about to pass out. You got anyone you can call?”

Alex shrugged, swaying a little in his seat. He pulled out his phone and with clumsy fingers typed out a text.

 ** _To:_ trashcan jefferson: **heyy im at the sharmock & need s riidw jhome  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** **shameock  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson :** **SHAMROXK  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** ah fukc  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** waiyt no  
**_To:_ trashcan jefferson:** disdnt meean 2 send tgat 2 u

Alexander set his phone down on the bar, sighing in frustration. He’d meant to text John or Herc or Eliza. But Jefferson had been on his mind, and...yeah.

“Goddamn it, Hamilton.” a familiar voice grumbled less than fifteen minutes later. Hamilton turned and Jefferson was frowning at him, hands tucked in the pockets of his dark purple overcoat. Underneath the coat he was wearing sweatpants. “It's ass o’clock in the fucking morning and you want me to drive your drunk ass home? You owe me. Big time.” Jefferson’s Southern accent was heavier than usual, and Alex had a fuzzy memory of him sounding like that the night Laf was in a fight. Wait...was Jefferson worried about him?

“Well, when you text me from a bar at 2 AM and I find you drinking yourself to death, you could say I'm a little concerned.” Jefferson said drily.

_Wait, had he said that out loud?_

“Come on.” Jefferson said with a tired sigh, dragging a hand through his thick, springy curls.

Alex grudgingly hopped down from his stool and stumbled after Jefferson. Jefferson held the car door open for him, and Alexander climbed in, his head spinning from the alcohol.

Jefferson slid into the driver’s seat, phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as he texted someone. Then his phone began to ring, and he answered it. Alexander watched curiously as he put it on speaker and placed it on the dashboard.

“Alexander Hamilton, I'm going to kill you!” Angelica’s voice shouted over the phone.

Alex winced.

“What should I do with him? He's drunk off his ass.” Jefferson asked, steering the car away from the curb.

“Take him home, make sure he gets to bed. He gets sleepy when he's drunk.” Hamilton nodded along to her words, punctuating her last sentence with a yawn.

Then Eliza’s voice joined Angelica’s. “Thomas-hi, it's Eliza-leave him some aspirin. He's gonna have a wicked hangover.”

“Or don't. You keep doing this, Alex, you almost deserve that hangover.” Angelica said, and her voice was dead serious.

“You're making this a habit, Hamilton. I'm not your personal taxi.” Jefferson said, once the Schuyler sisters had hung up. He seemed to have regained his composure, his voice clearer now.

“I know.” Hamilton slurred. “‘S not like you had to come.”

But he did.

Jefferson didn't reply. He didn't even look at Alex, just kept his eyes on the road.

He parked in front of Alexander’s building and went around to the passenger side to open the door for Alex.

“Thank you, kind sir.” Alex giggled, practically falling out of the car. His legs felt like they were made of Jello. His head felt light.

Jefferson just sighed again and steadied him by gripping Alex’s upper arm tightly, and practically dragging Alex up the sidewalk and into the apartment building.

They took the elevator up to Alex’s floor, Alex leaning heavily on Jefferson the whole way up, head on Jefferson’s arm. He didn't quite trust his legs to support him on their own. They were all...floaty. He told Jefferson this, babbling on about the properties of floating things, for instance, hot air balloons.

“I've never been in a hot air balloon.” he said as they made their way slowly down the hall, Jefferson still holding Alex up. He was swaying on his feet, and he was having trouble walking straight. “I bet they're cool though. I’d like to do that. Fly in a hot air balloon I mean. Would you do that, Jefferson? Or are you afraid of heights?”

“Hamilton?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you please shut up? You're gonna wake your neighbours.”

“Whoops.” Alexander giggled. “Oh, this one's mine.” he said, stopping suddenly. He patted his pockets for his keys, and attempted to unlock the door. He kept missing the keyhole though, and finally Jefferson clicked his tongue, exasperated, and took the key from Alex, unlocking the door with steady hands.

Hands that just a minute ago had been touching Alex’s hands, that were very warm and big and soft, with long, graceful fingers and- _whoa_. _What?_

Suddenly feeling very tired, Alex staggered toward his bedroom, then changed course and headed for the couch, which was closer. He collapsed onto the couch, and Jefferson draped a blanket over him, his expression uncharacteristically tender, then set a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the coffee table.

“For the morning.” he explained. Then, “I'll tell Washington you'll be in late tomorrow.”

“Mm. Thanks.” Alexander mumbled sleepily, his voice slurred from a mix of alcohol and exhaustion.

Jefferson uttered a soft, “Yeah. Don't mention it.” before slipping quietly out the door.

Hamilton woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a shitton of concerned, slightly angry texts.

 **with a comma after dearest:** seriously alex

 **best of women:** worried abt you :(  
**best of women:** text me back when you can

 **horsefucker:** what the fuck dude.

 **marquis de la baguette:** alexander  
**marquis de la baguette:** you imbécile  
**marquis de la baguette:** john is sick with worry

 **my dear laurens:** you said you weren't gonna do that anymore!!  
**my dear laurens:** what the hell Alex!!  
**my dear laurens:** hope you're safe…..get some sleep

 **george washingdad:** Jefferson told me what happened last night. It was very irresponsible of you, Alexander.  
**george washingdad:** Don't worry about coming in today, son.

 **trashcan jefferson:** took care of washington for you  
**trashcan jefferson:** I mean you're probably just gonna come in anyway but  
**trashcan jefferson:** don't forget to drink some water & take your aspirin I bet your hangover is awful lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hmu on tumblr @starkscully 
> 
> also, thanks for your lovely comments ily all


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”I'm sorry, Eliza. I'll try and do better.”
> 
> She reached across the desktop and took his hand in hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has a lot of Feelings

“Hamilton.”

Alexander groaned. He really didn't feel like dealing with Jefferson right now. He kept walking toward his office, but Jefferson had caught up with him and was easily keeping pace beside him.

“What do you want?” Alex asked through gritted teeth. His head was throbbing. _Why couldn't Thomas just leave him the fuck alone?_

“How’s your head?” Jefferson asked. Alexander glared up at him. “Awful. Will you go away now?”

Looking taken aback, and a little aggravated, by Alex’s cold tone, Jefferson stopped walking, and Alexander forged ahead, reaching his office and locking himself inside. He left all the lights off and the blinds down. His head felt like someone was pounding on his skull with a hammer.

He sat at his desk and cradled his head in his hands, feeling a little like he was going to throw up.

He couldn't help but remember Angelica’s words from last night. _You almost deserve the hangover._ He snorted. Maybe she was right. It was his own fault.

But given the opportunity to relive yesterday evening, he would still go to that bar and do it all again. Sometimes the world got to be too much, and he needed to escape for a little while. And drinking was his escape.

He just wished he could feel the sensation of peace, of freedom, without feeling sick afterwards.

 _Maybe he should've stayed home today,_ he thought, pulling out his laptop and wincing at the jolt of pain the sudden bright light sent through his temples. But he couldn't afford to get any more behind on his work, so he sucked it up, turned the brightness down, and began to type.

Around lunchtime, there was a soft knock on his office door. “Alex?” Eliza’s voice called.

Alex sighed and got up to unlock the door. The aspirin had kicked in, but his head still felt like it was full of rocks. He'd only written 5,000 words.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” Eliza asked, stepping inside the dark office.

“Honestly, pretty terrible.” he answered, sitting back down and returning to his work.

Eliza set down the paper fast food bag she was carrying. It smelled good, and Alex wasn't sure if he wanted to throw up or devour a whole order of fries. She closed his laptop, raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, staring at the laptop and hoping his work had saved.

“Eat.” Eliza said, pointing to the bag.

Reluctantly, Alex unwrapped the burger she'd got for him and nibbled at it.

“So what was it this time?” Eliza asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What drove you to drink?”

“I dunno. Just...stress.” he stammered, not wanting to address the way he'd been thinking about Jefferson in that bar last night. So he made up another excuse. Which wasn't technically a lie, just not the whole truth. “I'm behind on a lot of work stuff-” he gestured to his laptop. “-so, there's that…” his voice trailed off.

“Just ask Washington for an extension.” Eliza urged. “You know, this wouldn't happen if you didn't procrastinate so much. You work non-stop, but half the time you aren't even working on things you're supposed to be working on!”

“I can't just...there's a reason it's all due when it's due. The French ambassador is gonna-”

“Alex. Your health is more important than pleasing the ambassador.”

Alex shook his head animatedly. “What if France declares war on us because I offended the ambassador? Is my health more important than the safety of our entire nation?”

“Alex.”

“I'm sorry, Eliza.” he mumbled, feeling like a chastised child. “I'll try and do better.”

She reached across the desktop and took his hand in hers. 

* * *

Jefferson stopped by Hamilton’s office again at lunchtime. It was so he could gloat at Hamilton’s suffering, he told himself, not because he wanted to see the guy.

Hamilton sat at his desk, head in his hands. Eliza was sitting across from him. She was still wearing her scrubs under her wool cardigan. There were takeout bags on the desk, and a half-eaten burger sat in front of Hamilton.

“Greasy food.” Eliza explained. “Hi, Thomas.”

“No.” Hamilton said hoarsely when Jefferson stepped into his office. “Go away.”

“Hello, Eliza.” Thomas greeted, ignoring him and forcing a polite smile for the Schuyler sister’s benefit.

“Thanks for driving him home last night and everything.” Eliza said.

Alexander looked up then, and Thomas winced sympathetically. There were dark bags like bruises under his bloodshot eyes, his face was pallid. He looked exhausted, and there was a pained crease between his brows. “You look terrible.” Thomas said.

“Gee, thanks.” Alexander grunted.

Thomas dropped the bottle he was carrying on Hamilton’s desk. “I read somewhere that it helps with hangovers.” Hamilton raised his eyebrows at him. “Gatorade.” he said skeptically. “Yeah. Don't worry, I didn't poison it.” Thomas chuckled. “Replaces lost electrolytes or something. Helps with dehydration.”

Hamilton took a tentative sip. “Thanks.” he said.

“Stay for lunch, Thomas.” Eliza invited.

“Oh, uh, I should probably get back to work...thanks for the offer.” Jefferson apologized awkwardly, backing toward the door. “See you Saturday.

“Yeah, see you. Thanks again.” Eliza said.

“You owe me, Hamilton.” Jefferson said warningly over his shoulder as he left.

“Sure. Whatever.” Hamilton called after him.

 **To: Jemmy:** help me  
 **Jemmy:** what's up  
 **To: Jemmy:** it's Hamilton.  
 **To: Jemmy:** I keep thinking about him  
 **Jemmy:** ew Thomas I don't wanna know about your weird sex fantasies especially if they involve Hamilton  
 **To: Jemmy:** no! not like that!   
**To: Jemmy:** okay a little like that  
 **Jemmy:** what did I literally just say Thomas I don't wanna know   
**To: Jemmy:** ugh  
 **To: Jemmy:** so anyway I drove him home the other night and he fell asleep in my car so I brought him up to his apartment and Jesus Christ he's so cute when he's asleep help me James  
 **To: Jemmy:** and then last night he texts me from a bar and he's drunk off his ass so I drove him home again and he's even cute when he's drunk like seriously Hamilton can you stop   
**To: Jemmy:** now he's super hungover and sick and it's so pitiful and I should be laughing at him but I just wanna tuck him into bed and take care of him and how do I stop feeling like this I HATE HIM

Thomas set his phone down on his desk and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Fuck.” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @starkscully!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and peggy: heyy what's up   
> and peggy: u busy this afternoon?  
> To: and peggy: nah why   
> and peggy: I'm going shopping :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eliza's party!! (part one)   
> & Alex gets his hair done!!

**and peggy** : heyy what's up   
**and peggy:** u busy this afternoon?  
 ** _To:_ and peggy: ** nah why   
**and peggy:** I'm going shopping :)  
 ** _To:_ and peggy: **again??  
 ** _To:_ and peggy:** u practically live at the mall  
 **and peggy:** ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯   
**and peggy:** Angie asked me to pick up Liza’s cake so I figured, y’know, while I'm there   
**and peggy:** I can drive you to the party when we’re done   
**_To:_ and peggy: **yeah sure okay   
**and peggy:** nice I'll be there in 15

“Hammy!” Peggy cried, bouncing into Alexander’s office, a huge grin on her face.

“Oh, dear God.” Alex said at the sound of the nickname. “Please don't let anyone hear you call me that. Especially Jefferson. Christ. I'd never hear the end of it.”

Peggy hopped from foot to foot impatiently as Alex gathered his things. “Yes, yes, I'm coming. Jesus.”

“You're grouchy today.” Peggy pouted, grabbing his arm and all but dragging him out of the office.

“Sorry.” Alexander apologized. “Guess I'm just...tired.”

Peggy looked at him sharply. “You’re sleeping, though, right?”

“Yes.” Alexander replied, exasperated. “I'm an adult, Peggy, I can take care of myself.”

She just raised her eyebrows at him.

Peggy drove like a maniac. Alex gripped the seat for dear life as she swerved through a turn that almost tipped the SUV onto its side.

“Are you sure you don't want me to drive?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, no, it's okay.” Peggy answered cheerfully. She slammed on the brakes, and Alex’s morning coffee and the granola bar Laf had made him eat when he's driven him to work-the only thing he'd eaten all morning-almost made a reappearance.

They made a quick stop at his apartment first so he could change out of his work clothes, Alex praying he didn't throw up his breakfast all over his favourite sweater as Peggy put her foot on the gas and roared off down the street.

They arrived at the shopping mall in one piece, Alex sending another silent thank you prayer up to the heavens as he stepped out of the car on shaky legs.

“Okay, so. Let's start at the dress shop, then the shoe shop, and then I thought we'd go to the salon, ooh, and maybe Sephora, because I don't have to pick the cake up until 6:00.”

Alexander just nodded, walking alongside her into the mall with a faint smile on his face as Peggy rambled on.

  
“Where to next?” he asked an hour later, laden with shopping bags.

“The salon.” Peggy said decisively, skipping ahead of him.

“Hey, wait up, Pegs!” he sighed, scurrying after her.

Next thing he knew he was seated in a salon chair next to Peggy.

“Think I should dye it?” she asked, pursing her lips thoughtfully at her reflection.

“I dunno.” Alex said, enjoying the sensation of having his wet hair blow-dried, the stylist working on him combing his hair with the round brush as she dried it with an expert hand.

“Maybe I'll just get a streak. What colour? Pink? Blue? Mm, no I think just straightening it is fine.” Alexander blocked her out, closing his eyes as the stylist worked some kind of cream into his hair.

“You want me to curl it, yes?” she asked, looking at him with her heavily penciled eyebrow raised. He nodded.

Beside him, Peggy was humming under her breath as she scrolled boredly through her phone. The stylist was running the flat iron through her hair. Alex’s stylist had put his hair up in rollers, and Peggy looked up at him, grinning. She held up her phone.

“Aw, Pegs, no.” he protested, but she snapped a picture anyway.

“Look how cute you look!” she exclaimed, holding out her phone for him to see. “Aw, no.” he muttered. Peggy giggled.

The rollers had to be left in for a while, so Alex pulled out his phone too, scrolling through the memes Herc had sent him earlier.

 ** _To:_ horse fucker: **stop sending me pepes   
**_To:_ horse fucker: **you meme loving fuck

Then the stylist took the rollers out of his hair, and Peggy gasped.

“Oh my god, you look awesome! I love it!”

Alex felt his face heat up, and he turned to look in the mirror. His hair fell in soft, loose curls around his face. Hesitantly, he touched it. It was still warm from the hot rollers. He had to admit, it did look really nice.

“Hold still.” the stylist commanded, and he almost choked on the sudden cloud of hairspray. “Okay, all done.” she said, beaming.

Peggy was finished too, and she hopped down from her chair. She linked her arm with Alex’s. “It's almost 6:00, we gotta go pick up that cake.”

As they were walking to the bakery, Peggy tugged gently on Alexander’s hair. “Please never, ever, ever get a haircut.” she said.

They picked up the cake, and Peggy made him stop at Starbucks on the way out to the parking lot. She ordered some fancy, sugary, chocolate drink with a mountain of whipped cream on top and a name that contained about 9 words and not one of them was ‘coffee.’ Alexander just ordered a plain old coffee and told Peggy to enjoy her ‘liquid diabetes’ as they walked out to the car.

They reached the car, and Peggy tried to climb into the driver’s seat. “Uh, no. I'm driving.” Alex said.

“My driving isn't that terrible. I passed my test and everything.” Peggy mumbled, reluctantly getting into the passenger seat.

“It's really astounding how you managed to pass.” Alex said, shaking his head and steering the SUV out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Peggy swatted at him. “You're not so great a driver either, you're driving like an old man.”

“Because the light is yellow! That means slow down!” Alexander cried indignantly. Still, he sped up a little bit once they made it past the intersection.

“Cake’s here!” Angelica called when Peggy and Alex came into the kitchen of the Schuyler sisters’ apartment.

“Oh, hello, Alexander, it's so nice to see you, thanks so much for bringing the cake?” Alex said drily, cocking an eyebrow at Angelica.

“Alex! Your hair looks so nice!” Eliza exclaimed, appearing in the doorway.

“Hi. Thanks. Happy birthday!” he added quickly.

“Thank you.” Eliza smiled.

“Yes, hello, it's Peggy, your sister, who also has nice hair, and was the one who actually paid for the cake.” Peggy said loudly, hands on her hips.

“Thanks, Pegs.” Eliza said, throwing her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Angelica turned her eyes heavenward. “Oh God. They're here.” she muttered, going to answer the door.

There was a chorus of, “Yo, Angelica!” and then Mulligan, Lafayette, and Laurens were shoving their way into the kitchen.

“Alex! Ton cheveux!” Laf cried upon entering the kitchen. “J’aime ça!”

“Woah!” Laurens exclaimed, doing a double take at the sight of Alexander.

Alex smiled shyly.

“Et bonne fête à Eliza!” Laf said, grinning at her.

“Thanks, Gil.” Eliza replied.

Laurens leaned back against the counter beside Alex. “Your hair looks really nice.” he said quietly.

“Thanks.” Alexander replied. Laurens reached out and twirled one of Alex’s curls around his finger.

“You really had me worried the other night.” John murmured.

Alex started to mumble another half-assed apology, of the sort he was getting quite adept at lately, but John cut him off with a chaste, quick little kiss to Alexander’s cheek.

Alexander could only stare at him, frozen in place. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

John shrugged, then went to join the others in the living room, leaving Alex with his fingers pressed to his cheek in astonishment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo yeah that happened :))
> 
> thank you all so much for your lovely comments ily all!! hmu on tumblr @starkscully


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Jesus Christ. I'm in the middle of a YA novel love triangle.” Alex moaned, burying his face in his pillow and praying for sleep.

Alex could feel Jefferson’s eyes practically boring a hole in him from across the room.

He snuck a glance at Jefferson, who was leaning against the wall, chatting with Lafayette and Burr.

“Alex!” Peggy snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Hamilton!”

Alex turned back to her, Herc, and Angelica. “Sorry.”

Angelica winked at him, and before he could stop her, she was waving Thomas over.

“Oh, good lord.” Alex muttered under his breath as Jefferson approached. He smelled weirdly nice. _Was he wearing cologne? Yeah, he was definitely wearing cologne._

Alex blinked. _Since when do I notice Jefferson’s cologne?_ he wondered. His mind was running a thousand miles a minute. He kept replaying that moment in the kitchen with John over and over again in his head. John Laurens had kissed him. What did it mean?

“Hamilton.” Jefferson sneered, voice full of contempt.

“Jefferson.” Alexander shot back.

“Your hair looks...nice.” Jefferson said tentatively. Alex stared at him. Was he actually being sincere? He patted his curls self-consciously. “Thanks.” he mumbled.

“Enjoying the party?” Angelica cut in.

“Thanks for the invite.” Jefferson replied, casual, but polite.

_Would it be weird if I asked him what cologne he’s wearing?_ Alex couldn't help but wonder. He never got the chance, because Maria began shouting that it was time for cake.

* * *

Thomas knew he was staring, but it wasn't like he could help it. Hamilton’s hair, and his eyes, bright and fierce and all lit up like the candles on Eliza’s cake as he grinned and laughed with his friends, and he had icing on the tip of his nose, the dork.

Thomas wanted nothing more than to take Alexander’s face in his hands and lick the icing off his nose, and run his hands through his hair, which looked impossibly soft, cascading around his face in smooth, loose curls.

But he didn't. He just stood there awkwardly, chatting in French with Lafayette and watching Laurens take a napkin and wipe the icing from Hamilton’s face, giggling all the while. He felt a stab of jealousy, and Laf raised his eyebrows at him.

“ _Tu êtes à regarder trés attentivement._ ” he observed.

Thomas looked down at the red Solo cup of soda in his hand. There was no alcohol at the party, because of...his gaze strayed to Hamilton again.

Laf was shaking his head at Thomas. “ _Thomas, je connais ce regard._ ” he said, his tone almost warning.

Thomas looked at him, his forehead creased in confusion.

“ _Désir_.” Laf clarified, his eyes filled with sympathy.

“ _Si cette sensation est désir, elle est la désir pour quelque chose hors de ma portée._ ” Thomas sighed.

“ _Il est plus proche de toi que tu réalises_.” And, leaving Thomas to wonder what he meant by that, he flounced off to stand beside Hercules.

* * *

**_To:_ Angelica Schuyler, Eliza Schuyler, Peggy Schuyler, Ma chère Hercules:** mes amis, we need to talk  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** what's up Gil  
 **Ma chère Hercules:** what do we need to talk about???  
 ** _To:_ Angelica Schuyler, Eliza Schuyler, Peggy Schuyler, Ma chère Hercules:** Alexander and Thomas.  
 **Peggy Schuyler:** what about them  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** it's pretty obvious they've got it bad for each other  
 **Eliza Schuyler:** ikr the sexual tension is unbearable   
**Peggy Schuyler:** didn't Alex leave with John tonight tho??  
 ** _To:_ Angelica Schuyler, Eliza Schuyler, Peggy Schuyler, Ma chère Hercules:** if you are concerned that John is going to attempt to pursue a relationship with Alexander again you needn't worry  
 **Peggy Schuyler:** whys that  
 **Ma chère Hercules:** to put it bluntly, we’re currently a threesome  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** you could've used a different word I really don't wanna know abt ur sex life Mulligan  
 ** _To:_ Angelica Schuyler, Eliza Schuyler, Peggy Schuyler, Ma chère Hercules: **we are, how you say? polyamorous?   
**_Eliza Schuyler named this group “get Thomas and Alex together!!”_**  
 **Eliza Schuyler:** so anyway what're we gonna do about Alex and Thomas?   
**Angelica Schuyler:** well they're both too dumb to realize they both like each other  
 **Peggy Schuyler:** we just gotta get them to, y’know, get to know each other a little better   
**Peggy Schuyler:** but like   
**Peggy Schuyler:** we gotta be subtle about it   
**_To:_ get Thomas and Alex together!!: ** I agree  
 **Angelica Schuyler:** I'll invite Thomas to movie night next weekend  
 **Eliza Schuyler:** smart

* * *

It was nearly two in the morning and Alexander couldn't sleep. His mind was reeling, his thoughts a hurricane.

He absently patted his wet hair, the curls-and the ridiculous amount of hairspray-having been long since washed out, remembering the way Jefferson had been staring at him, his dark eyes wide and intent, almost sad. _Wistful_. Alex’s heart gave a little twist at the idea, and he reminded himself not to get his hopes up. He and Jefferson had been at war with each other from the day they'd met, always fighting, never agreeing on anything. He didn't see any reason why that should suddenly change now.

They hated each other, the hate had always been mutual. Well, until now, apparently, because he found his thoughts straying to Jefferson more and more often, noticing him more and more. Or maybe he always had, and just hadn't realized it.

He tried not to dwell on Peggy’s words from last week. _Hate is a passionate emotion, as is love. They aren't really opposites._

But then he had to factor in John. John, with his sweet smile, and his dimples, and freckles, and wild, curly hair. John, who had kissed him tonight.

Seriously, what the hell? What did it mean? Was it some kind of hint, some kind of invitation? Did John want to get back together? They'd decided they better off as friends, very close friends, yes, but not so close as to elicit spontaneous kisses on the cheek, or kisses anywhere at all, really.

They'd decided to be just friends, and Alex was fine with that. He'd moved on. To Jefferson, apparently, but he didn't want to address that thought at the moment. He wondered if maybe John wasn't fine with being just friends, Maybe John hadn't moved on.

Not for the first time that night he was wishing Herc and Laf hadn't raided his apartment for all of his alcoholic drinks. God, how he wished he could slip into that glazed-over, placid state of mind, where his problems seemed to get washed away like a sand castle taken by the oncoming tide. Where he didn't have to think about anything, especially his rather complicated feelings for both Jefferson and Laurens.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. I'm in the middle of a YA novel love triangle.” he moaned, burying his face in his pillow and praying for sleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @starkscully


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was standing there in his plaid pajama pants and his favourite oversized sweatshirt, wearing his glasses, and with his unwashed hair up in a bun atop his head, in front of Thomas fucking Jefferson, the Devil incarnate.

Hamilton spent all of Saturday exhausted, downing cup of coffee after cup of coffee as he tried to muster the energy to clean his apartment. Tonight’s Saturday movie night was at his place, and there was laundry and dirty dishes on every surface in every room.

When he'd finished cleaning, he curled up on the couch, his laptop in his lap, and attacked the unedited draft of his latest essay. He didn't even realize it was 7:30 until there was a knock on the door. He got up to answer it, suddenly remembering that he hadn't had anything to eat since 11:00 that morning. It was probably Herc and Laf, he thought, throwing the door open.

It was not Herc and Laf.

He was standing there in his plaid pajama pants and his favourite oversized sweatshirt, wearing his glasses, and with his unwashed hair up in a bun atop his head, in front of Thomas fucking Jefferson, the Devil incarnate. He wouldn't have cared if it was his friends, but this was Jefferson.

“Am I early?” the Southerner drawled. “No. You're late. It's over. Please leave.” Alex snapped, starting to close the door in Jefferson’s face. Jefferson stopped him, his arm outstretched over Alex’s head as he held the door open.

Alex threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Whatever. You know what? Whatever. Just come in. I'm tired, I haven't eaten yet-”

“Hamilton.”

“Just-I'm starving, man. I'll be in the kitchen.” Alex sighed, stomping into the kitchen and banging cupboard doors and slamming pots and pans down on the counter as he clattered around the room. Jefferson had followed him in.

“Hamilton. Jesus, calm down.”

“Jefferson, I'm running on, like, three hours of sleep, I’m starving, and the guy who hates my guts is standing in my kitchen-”

“ _Hamilton_.”

“-probably expecting a fight, right? Well, I'm not in the mood.”

“Alexander.”

He stopped, frozen in place, at the sound of his first name.

Jefferson took a step toward him, and he felt his heart speed up. Goddamn it. “Alexander, I don't ‘hate your guts.’” he said, doing air quotes. “And I'm not looking for a fight.” he looked like he wanted to say more, his face weirdly vulnerable, but there was another knock at the door.

“I'll get it.” Alex muttered, ducking past Jefferson and out of the kitchen. Laf, Herc, and John were crowding into the apartment a few minutes later.

“Thank God, I've been alone with Jefferson for like, three whole minutes.” Alex hissed, ushering them in.

“Where’d you put his body?” Herc joked.

Jefferson appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was holding a wooden spoon, as if he'd been cooking, and Alex’s brain short-circuited.

“Gil, _mon amour, comment ça va_?” Thomas greeted.

“Thomas, _mon cœur!_ ” Laf replied.

Mulligan was watching Laf with a fond expression. “I have no idea what he's saying, but I love it.”

“Oh, _est-ce que tu aime quand je parle français?_ ” Laf asked teasingly, looping his arms around Hercules’s neck.

“Yes. I totally agree.” Herc said, nodding along to Laf’s every word.

That's when Alex noticed Herc was holding John’s hand, and a slight pressure began to build up behind his eyes. Thomas Jefferson was in his kitchen, possibly cooking him dinner, and it looked like John, Hercules, and Lafayette were a thing now. But John had kissed him?

Did he have feelings for John again? He'd moved on, hadn't he? He and John were a thing of the past. Had a tiny kiss to the cheek really changed that? Maybe he'd just...Eliza had Maria, Lafayette had Mulligan, and he had no one. Maybe he'd just gotten his hopes up, so desperate for a relationship that he'd read too much into what had happened between him and John in the Schuyler sisters’ kitchen.

He needed a nap. A long nap. Preferably for 200+ years, he thought as he wandered back into the kitchen. Jefferson was slowly stirring the contents of a steaming pot on the stove.

“Well, this is a sight to behold. My greatest political enemy, cooking me dinner?”

“You were...preoccupied, and you haven't eaten yet, and…” Jefferson trailed off, his eyes going wide with panic as the pot began to overflow and he frantically dialled the burner heat down. “Your stove is a piece of shit.” he grumbled, frowning. Alex wasn't really listening. He was rummaging around in the medicine cabinet beside the fridge, in search of his bottle of aspirin. He could feel a headache coming on, the pressure behind his eyes worsening steadily.

“What're you looking for?” Jefferson asked, just as Alex spotted the aspirin on the highest shelf of the cabinet. He swore quietly.

“The aspirin.” Alexander sighed, pointing helplessly at the bottle. Jefferson crossed the kitchen in a few strides, reached up, and grabbed the bottle effortlessly, a mocking smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I hate tall people.” Alex muttered under his breath, snatching the bottle from Jefferson, who snickered. “Well, they say short people are closer to Satan.” Alex rolled his eyes.

When the Schuyler sisters and Maria arrived, Hamilton was curled up on the couch again, eating a bowl of macaroni. Jefferson, for all his faults, was not a bad cook.

* * *

By the time Burr got there, Hamilton’s little apartment was getting crowded. Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette were squashed onto the loveseat, because the Schuyler sisters and Maria had taken the couch. The three men didn't seem to mind though. Laurens was sitting practically in Laf and Mulligan’s laps.

There was a standing piano in the corner of the room, and, with nowhere really to sit and feeling a little out of place, Thomas wandered over to it, slowly tapping out _Ode To Joy_.

Suddenly, Alexander was standing beside the piano, leaning on the lid. "You play?" he asked.

Thomas shrugged, removing his hands from the keys and placing them in his lap. "Mostly I play violin, but I know a little."

Hamilton jerked his chin at him. "Scoot over." he said. Jefferson obliged, and Alexander sat on the bench beside him. His hip was up against Thomas's, and Thomas felt like the entire right side of his body was on fire.

  
“I picked some up from Eliza.” Hamilton explained. He took a breath, then launched into the first few chords of _Piano Man_ , wiggling his eyebrows at Jefferson, who laughed at him.

"Come on, Thomas." he said, nudging Jefferson with his elbow. "You know this one, right?" Grudgingly, Thomas nodded and began to play the bass chords.

"Yeah, there you go!" Alex cried, grinning. And then, to Thomas's horror and amazement, he began to sing.

" _Nine o'clock on a Saturday-"_

"Oh, sweet Jesus." Jefferson muttered, but he didn't stop playing.

Hamilton's grin widened. " _-the regular crowd shuffles in. There's an old man sittin next to me-_ that's you-" he teased.

"Thanks."

" _Makin’ love to his tonic and gin._ " he continued. Thomas had to admit, he did have a nice voice. Scratchy, but oddly harmonious, even if he was a little off key, but he made up for it in enthusiasm.

"Come on, Thomas, sing with me," he goaded. " _La la la la la la la-_ "

Thomas shook his head, but he was unable to hide his smile.

" _La la la la laaa! Come on_!" Alex urged.

Rolling his eyes, Thomas joined him in singing the chorus. " _Sing us a song, you're the piano man, sing us a song tonight. 'Cause we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feeling alright._ "

Alex's eyes went wide, and his grin broadened. "Hey, you're not so bad. Here I was thinking you'd sound like a dying cat."

"Ha ha." Thomas responded, and then launched into the next verse.

" _Now John at the bar is a friend of mine, he gets me my drinks for free. And he's quick with a joke, or to light up your smoke, but there's someplace that he'd rather be_."

Alex's fingers danced over the keys as he nodded along to the words. " _He says, 'Bill, I believe this is killing me,' as a smile ran away from his face. 'And I'm sure that I could be a movie star, if I could get outta this place.'_ " Hamilton belted out, and Thomas laughed loudly, throwing his head back.

Alex kicked him. They shouted the next part together, pounding out the notes. " _Oh, la la la di da da...sing us a song, you're the piano man, sing us a song tonight! Well, we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feelin’ alright!_ "

Thomas would've rathered the song not end, but before he knew what was happening, Alexander was playing the last couple of chords, fingers deft and light as they flew across the keys, striking the last note clear and loud.

"Bravo!" Eliza cried from behind them, and then everyone was clapping. Thomas had almost forgotten they were all there. For the short duration of the song, his world had narrowed to a small corner in Alexander's apartment, and all that had mattered was the music and Alex. But now the song was done, and the bubble had been burst. He stood abruptly and joined Angelica on the couch.

Hamilton didn't move from the piano bench, watching Jefferson, face blank but with puzzled eyes.

Thomas looked away, ignoring the way his heart felt like it was ripping in half. Putting distance between himself and Hamilton, throwing up walls, would ultimately hurt less than falling in love with someone he could never have. Someone who so clearly hated him.

_Maybe if you weren't such a coward you could have him._

“Shut up.” he muttered under his breath, ignoring the odd look Angelica gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so for no particular reason Alex knows how to play the piano
> 
> idk man


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander tried to stop crying, tried to get a hold of himself, because surely Jefferson found this absolutely hilarious-his political nemesis reduced to tears right in front of him.

Alexander felt disappointment flood him as he watched Thomas move to sit beside Angelica.

Just when he thought maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance...Thomas reverted to his usual cold, mocking demeanor, leaving Alex feeling like a complete idiot for thinking that they could be anything more than enemies. That's what they'd always been, and clearly that wasn't going to change.

At work the next week, Thomas was icy as ever towards him. The side of Jefferson he'd had glimpses of throughout the past couple of weeks, the Jefferson that drove him home, and carried him to bed, and made sure he was eating, was totally gone, and Alex had never been more confused.

On top of that, he still hadn't figured out what was happening with John. He'd all but ignored him on Saturday night, spending the whole evening cuddled up with Herc and Lafayette.

Add his steadily growing pile of unfinished paperwork that was at this point probably taller than he was to the mix, and Alexander was running on nothing but coffee and granola bars. He hadn't changed his clothes in two days, and he hadn't had a good night's sleep in twice that many.

He wanted-no, _needed_ , to escape to that state of mind where nothing at all mattered, but he was trying to keep his promise to his friends. When he was sitting at the kitchen table at one in the morning, the only light in the dark room his laptop screen, a cup of coffee long since gone cold sitting in front of him, and he felt the need to go raid every cupboard in his apartment for something Laf and Herc might've missed, he forced himself to remember how disappointed in him they'd all be if he slipped now.

“You don't have the votes!” Jefferson cackled as Hamilton stormed out of the cabinet room, flipping the Virginian the bird as he went. He was still behind on all of his work, and Jefferson had barely given him a chance to take a breath in today’s meeting, immediately refuting Hamilton’s latest bill.

He slammed his office door behind him, and cast a helpless glance over at the bookcase on the office’s far wall. In a cupboard was a decanter of whiskey he'd been saving. No one would see if he just had a little drink. No one would know.

He took the stopper off the bottle...and his office door banged open. Jefferson breezed in.

“Hamilton, you have invented a new kind of stupid, truly-” he was saying, but he stopped in his tracks, his eyes landing on the decanter in Alexander’s hand.

“What are you doing?” he said, his derisive tone giving way to something more concerned.

“Nothing.” Alex blurted quickly, moving to hide the decanter behind his back. Jefferson, propelled by his unfairly long legs, was at his side within seconds, grasping his wrist in one hand as he used the other to wrestle the decanter out of Alexander’s hand.

“Have you been drinking?” Jefferson asked, and there was real fury in his voice, real fear in his face. Alex could only shake his head, his eyes stinging with tears. Jefferson slammed the decanter down on the desk with angry force, making Alex flinch. And just like that, the floodgates opened, and Alex had collapsed on the floor of his office, sobbing uncontrollably.

Jefferson stared at him, open-mouthed, and Alex sucked in a choked breath, his shoulders heaving with sobs, as he tried to stop crying, tried to get a hold of himself, because surely Jefferson found this absolutely hilarious-his political nemesis reduced to tears right in front of him. But Jefferson, to his surprise, didn't laugh at him. He knelt on the floor beside Alex and gently pulled him into his arms.

“Hamilton. Shh. Alexander. It's okay.” he soothed. Alex could only cling to him, head on his shoulder, unable to stop shaking.

“I can’t. I can’t do this. It's...too much.” he managed to choke out.

Jefferson shushed him, his arms tightening around Alexander’s trembling form.

Hamilton ignored him, kept rambling on, his frustration evident. “My paperwork isn't done, and the meeting today...no one would listen...and I just…it's all too much. I can't...I need-”

Jefferson interrupted him. “Go home, Alexander.”

“But I-”

“You're in no state to be working today. I'll finish up your paperwork, if you'd like.”

“You sure you won't fuck it up?” Alex sniffled, managing a grateful smile.

“I'm sure I won't fuck it up any more than you already have.” Jefferson’s tone was light, teasing, not full of venom like his taunts so often were.

“Please don't tell anyone about this.” Alexander whispered.

“Alex-”

“Please don't.” Alex pleaded. “They'll worry about me-”

“Maybe they should.” Jefferson interjected in a soft voice. His hand stroked through Alex’s hair, and Alex stiffened, hoping Jefferson wouldn't notice the way his heart started hammering against his ribs or how a flush started to heat his face.

He steamrolled forward, stammering out more excuses to cover up his sudden discomfort. “-and I don't know if I can...I don't want their pity. I don't want them to feel like-like they have to take care of me, because they don't, I can take care of myself and-”

Jefferson cut him off. “Go home.” he urged once more, releasing his hold on Alex and getting to his feet.

Alex stood too, scrubbing a hand over his blotchy, tear-stained face.

“Get some rest, Hamilton.” Jefferson murmured, reaching out and running his hand over Alexander’s hair again before giving him a gentle shove towards the door.

* * *

“Jefferson?”

“Hamilton? What do you want?” Jefferson’s voice sounded weirdly tinny over the phone. “You're supposed to be resting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm trying to. Netflix selection is shit. Just checking up on you.” Alex said, holding the phone in one hand and his TV remote in the other, scrolling through the Netflix selection. “Making sure you're not screwing up all my reports.”

Jefferson chuckled. “Don't worry, I'll get to that. I'm still trying to fix all of your mistakes. Did you know you spelled ‘Pennsylvania’ wrong?”

“I did not.”

“You did too. P-E-N-S-Y-L-V-A-N-I-A. You really should hire someone to edit these. Hey, did you want me to look at your speech for the French ambassador?” There was a faint squeaking noise, as if Jefferson were spinning his chair around. Hamilton smiled at the thought of him sitting at his huge wooden desk, dressed in an immaculate suit, and spinning around and around in his swivelling office chair like a kid. “What's it even about, anyway?”

“It's for the banquet. I'm supposed to discuss international debts.” Alex said distractedly. “I can do that myself. What I really need is to get those reports for Washington finished.”

Jefferson sounded smug when he said, “And I'm working on those right now. That's two you owe me now. Have you ever seen Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”

“Are you kidding me? I love Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“You've seen the new season then?”

“No, actually, I haven't.” Alex said thoughtfully, clicking the play button.

“Remember to actually get some sleep tonight, Hamilton.” There was a click, telling him Thomas had hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact Alex Hamilton did actually spell Pennsylvania wrong on the constitution 
> 
> ahhh your comments are so nice I don't say it often enough how much I appreciate that!!! ily guys!! 
> 
> also I just posted a jamilton oneshot check it out if u want it's called Take A Break I literally wrote it like a month ago while I was on vacation lmao
> 
> hum on tumblr @starkscully


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton being pretty much on top of him wasn't helping, and before he knew it, both of them went crashing to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo get ready for more pointless fluff kids

_Put distance between yourself and Hamilton. Throw up your walls. Detach yourself from him._ That plan had backfired spectacularly. And he'd been doing so well, destroying Hamilton in cabinet meetings, taunting him in the hallways, until Hamilton had fallen apart in his office and Jefferson had found himself with Hamilton in his arms, the smaller man crying on his shoulder.

And now here he was, standing on the doorstep of the apartment the three Schuyler sisters shared, his stomach feeling tied up in apprehensive knots.

He took a deep breath and knocked. The door was thrown open, and Laf grinned at him. His face was flushed, like he'd been exercising.

“ _Bonjour_ , Thomas!” he greeted, stepping back so Thomas could come in. “You are late.” he was saying, but Thomas was too busy taking in the scene before him to pay any attention to Laf.

Hamilton, Angelica, Burr, and Peggy were perched on the couch, laughing at Eliza, Maria, and Laurens, who groaned and grumbled at Mulligan’s bored announcement of, “Right foot, red.” They were already all twisted up, Eliza’s arm underneath Laurens, Maria’s leg over Eliza’s neck as she stretched to place her foot on the red space. Laurens had one arm sticking up in the air.

“We are playing Twister.” Laf explained cheerfully, taking a seat beside Mulligan.

“I can see that.” Thomas said.

“Here, Thomas, you can sit next to me.” Angelica scooted over to make room for him on the couch. Hamilton, who was sitting beside her, glared at her.

That left Thomas sandwiched between Angelica and a very irritated Alexander, who couldn't seem to sit still.

“My God, would you stop squirming? I don't bite, you know.” Thomas hissed. Hamilton only scoffed.

“Left hand, blue.” Mulligan called.

Laurens collapsed, Eliza’s arm pinned underneath him. They both cried out, and Maria dissolved into laughter.

“Get off me.” Eliza said, giggling as she shoved Laurens away.

“Who's going next?” Mulligan asked. Angelica jumped to her feet.

“I'll play.” Hamilton shrugged.

“Who else? Peggy? Thomas?” Angelica turned her steely gaze on him, a devilish smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

Peggy was shaking her head vigorously, so Thomas sighed and stood. “Okay.”

“All right, left foot, green.” Mulligan called. “Uh, right foot, red.”

Thomas, who, just a minute ago had been thinking, “Well, this isn't so hard,” now found himself practically doing the splits.

“Right hand, blue.”

“Left foot, blue.”

“Oh, thank God.” Thomas muttered, shifting his leg so that his foot was on the blue space and he was no longer doing the splits.

“Left hand, blue.”

“Right hand, red.”

“Ah, Laf, hey-” Lafayette had taken the spinner from Hercules. “Right hand, verte!”

“-Gil, I'm calling the colours!”

Thomas stifled a smile as the two of them fought over who was calling the colours, shouting out instructions at random.

And then Hamilton’s back was resting across his stomach as Hamilton stretched across the board to place his left hand on the green dot, and Jefferson wasn't listening anymore.

“Pardon my reach.” Alexander said, grinning teasingly. His eyes were bright, his cheeks rosy with the exertion. A few stray strands of hair had escaped his ponytail.

“Left foot, green.” Mulligan called, and Thomas tried to twist himself, straining to reach the green dot with his foot, but Hamilton being pretty much on top of him wasn't helping, and before he knew it, both of them went crashing to the floor.

* * *

Alex was lying across Jefferson’s midriff, his whole body shaking as Jefferson’s stomach rose and fell with laughter.

“I win!” Angelica cried, smirking down at them.

“Get off.” Jefferson groaned, shoving at Alex, who stumbled to his feet, still breathless with laughter.

“What a gentleman.” Jefferson drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words, when Alex extended a hand to help him up. He couldn't help but notice once again the softness of Jefferson’s hand, and he let go quickly, turning away so Jefferson wouldn't see the blush that was creeping over his face.

There was a knock on the door, and Alex was saved by the arrival of the delivery guy with their dinner.

“We should watch a scary movie,” Angelica said, minutes later, around a mouthful of lo mein noodles. They were sitting in a circle on the floor, Alex leaning back against the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, a carton of sweet and sour pork in his lap. Eliza was perched on the couch with Maria, playing with his hair again.

“Nooo!” Peggy protested, shivering at the very idea.

Herc rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, Pegs.”

“Yeah, watching horror movies is fun!” John piped up.

Peggy didn't look happy about it, but she grudgingly settled down beside Alex while Angelica turned down the lights and put the Conjuring on.

“Oh, God, I hate this movie.” Maria muttered as the opening credits slashed across the screen.

“We always watch this one.” Peggy complained.

With Maria and Eliza snuggled together on one end of the couch, Angelica stretched out on the other side, her feet in Eliza’s lap, Herc, Laurens, and Laf curled together on the other couch, and Burr in the armchair wrapped in like, three blankets, Jefferson ended up sitting on Alex’s other side.

He was wearing his nice cologne again, Alex noticed, then reminded himself he wasn't supposed to notice things about Jefferson.

“I hope the dog doesn't die.” Burr said suddenly.

“Ugh, I know, that's always the worst part of horror movies.” Jefferson agreed.

Alex turned to look at him, started to open his mouth, but Eliza swatted at him. “Don't spoil it for him.” she hissed. Alex stared at Thomas for a moment, finding himself admiring the way the faintly blue light from the TV screen illuminated Jefferson’s face, with his dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and square jaw cast in shadow. His hair was wild, more frizzy than usual, probably from the Twister game.

He realized he was _noticing_ again, reminded himself he wasn't supposed to be doing that, and looked away.

So Alex, for once in his life, shut his mouth and leaned back, letting Eliza weave his hair into a braid.

When Jefferson cried out at the first jump scare, he laughed, earning him a glare and a light punch on the arm, but he didn't mind.

He definitely didn’t lean over and whisper, “The dog dies,” in Jefferson’s ear just before that particular scene, earning him a harder punch and a muttered, “Fuck you, Hamilton.” which caused him to grimace in pain, but the grimace became an amused smile.

Maybe he would never have Jefferson the way he wanted to, but he'd always have him as his nemesis, and that was, for now, good enough for Alex.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you kidding me? Tell my political nemesis, who hates me, that I’ve got some kind of middle-school crush on him? I’d have to pack up and leave town.”

The sounds of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen, the scraping of cutlery, and the smell of coffee were what woke Alex.

He sat up, groaning. He'd fallen asleep on the floor, and there was a crick in his neck.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Maria sang, ruffling his hair. “You were out like a light last night. Must've been tired.”

“Yeah.” he mumbled, feeling her eyes on him, wary, worried. Which she had no reason to be, because he was sleeping, he was eating, and he wasn't drinking.

“You even slept through Eliza and I-” Maria started to say, perhaps sensing his discomfort and attempting to make the conversation more light, steering the subject away from Alex’s abhorrent methods of self-care.

Alex made a face, interrupted her mid-sentence. “Ugh! I don't wanna know, M. That's disgusting. Ugh.” He really didn't want to hear about two of his exes’ sex lives. Especially with each other.

Maria laughed. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Did you know,” Angelica said over her cup of coffee when he walked into the kitchen. “That you don’t even stop talking when you sleep.”

Alex blinked at her. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “You talk in your sleep.”

“You talk about _Thomas_.” Peggy trilled from her perch atop the counter, a bowl of cereal in her hand.

“What?” he spluttered, and Maria winked at him, flouncing over to join Eliza at the table, giving her girlfriend a peck on the cheek as she sat down.

“There’s a plate for you there, Alex.” Eliza told him, smiling. It wasn’t her usual kind, gentle smile. This smile was teasing, amused. Alex fixed a death glare on all of them as he grabbed his plate of eggs and bacon and leaned back against the counter beside Peggy.

“I do not talk in my sleep” Alex grumbled.

“Sure.” Angelica said, rolling her eyes.

Beside Alexander, Peggy fake swooned. “Oh, Thomas, your hair is so nice and I want to touch it-”

“Shut up, Pegs.” he muttered, nudging her with his elbow.

“-and you’re so tall and attractive-”

“Now I know you’re making this up. If I ever find Thomas Jefferson attractive, feel free to throw me out of a moving car, because there is nothing I would regret more.” Alex exclaimed, with a laugh that was maybe a little too forced.

The look Angelica gave him was half concerned, half skeptical. The rest of breakfast was finished in silence, and while Maria showered, Alex helped Eliza clean up the mess in the living room. There was popcorn and empty takeout containers strewn all about the room.

“What’s on your mind?” Eliza asked, tossing a half-eaten box of curry chicken into the garbage.

He shrugged, sat down on the couch, which probably needed to be vacuumed. At one point Lafayette had thrown his bowl of popcorn, screeching in fright, leaving Mulligan and Laurens unsure whether to laugh at him or console him. The both of them ended up just eating the popcorn he had flung everywhere, to everyone else’s disgust.

Eliza sat next to him. “Is it...Thomas?””

Alexander heaved a deep sigh and nodded. “I guess you’re gonna have to throw me out of a moving car, because I’m pretty sure I’ve got a crush on him.”

Eliza rubbed his back. “Aw, Alex. When did it start?””

“Uh...maybe around the time of your party? Maybe before that. I don’t really know. I don’t even really know why I started liking him all of a sudden? Maybe it wasn’t all of a sudden. Maybe I always have. All I know is that he’s a pretentious jerk, and I’ve got a crush on him, and I’m not entirely sure what to do about it.”

Eliza chuckled. “Alex. Slow down. Why can’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“Are you kidding me? Tell my political nemesis, who hates me, that I’ve got some kind of middle-school crush on him? I’d have to pack up and leave town. I wouldn't be able to ever show my face there ever again.” he cried.

“Maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you think he does.”

“Oh, believe me, he hates me just as much if not more. And I hated him too-his political views are bigoted and, frankly, ridiculous-but…” he gestured helplessly.

“You want my advice?” Eliza asked. Hamilton nodded. “Just...think about it. Because I think you might be wrong about Thomas hating you.”

He grunted, not quite satisfied with her answer, and with the way she suggested that he was wrong, but he thanked her for the advice all the same. Eliza gave him a smile, patted his shoulder, and brought the empty popcorn bowls into the kitchen to wash them. 

* * *

Thomas had never understood how a man who got sick as often as James Madison could be so sturdy and well-built. It was a mystery he still couldn't solve as he watched Madison from across the table, admiring how his friend filled out his well-tailored dark grey suit. Madison looked nice in grey.

Today, Thomas had worn magenta. He looked nice in purple, a fact he would never deny no matter how many times Hamilton told him his velvet magenta suit was an abomination, that it had been sewn by demons, or something else just as ridiculous.

The waiter came around to take their orders, and now, finally, Madison’s attention turned from his menu to Thomas.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

Thomas shrugged. “You know me.”

“How's Hamilton? Annoying as ever?” Madison asked, but there was a joking smile on his face.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. He's so full of himself, he can't see past his own opinions, he’s arrogant, loud-mouthed-”

“Cute.” James cut in.

Thomas blushed, and James grinned.

“Let’s not talk about Hamilton.” Thomas suggested.

“Why don't you just tell him how you feel? Just ask him out.” Madison said.

Thomas nearly spat his drink all over Madison’s lovely charcoal suit. “No! Absolutely not. Sacrifice my dignity on the off chance the man who hates me the most will agree to go on a date with me? Never.”

“Ah, you and your dignity.” James chuckled, shaking his head. “How do you know he’ll say no?”

Thomas raised one eyebrow. “You can't be serious. Did I forget to mention that he hates me with every ounce of his puny little being?”

“It's been said that hate is not a far cry from love, Thomas.” Madison teased.

“Drop it, Mads, please.” Thomas pleaded, rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Madison raised his hands in surrender. “So are you going to the banquet?”

Thomas frowned, trying to recall. He was invited to lots of banquets. “The banquet for the French ambassador?” James nodded. “Well, yeah, I have to. I'm the Secretary of State. It's pretty much the job description.” he said in a light tone, an attempt at a joke to cover up the sick feeling the thought of public events gave him.

You would think he would be used to it by now, what with the amount of benefits, banquets, and dinners he has attended, but something about being trapped in a room with so many unfamiliar people and having to socialize and make small talk with all those strangers still makes his stomach tie itself in knots. Even small social gatherings with people he doesn't know make his palms start to sweat, have him rehearsing what he's going to say to them in front of the bathroom mirror in the mornings.

He may have a calm and charming exterior, but inside, Thomas muses, he's kind of a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @starkscully
> 
> also, I don't say it enough but thank you all so much for your comments I love hearing from you guys so thank you so much!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit, Thomas, are you okay?” Alex blurted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending on that last chapter tho like  
> 'Thomas is a mess' me too my guy
> 
> anyway enjoy this next chapter ily all so much

“Hamilton. Have you prepared your speech for tonight?” Washington asked, turning his stern gaze on Alexander.

Alex nodded. “Yes, sir, I have.”

“Excellent. If you wouldn't mind forwarding a copy to me, along with a copy of your monthly report?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that concludes our meeting. Alexander, Mr. Jefferson.” Washington addressed each of them with a curt nod before standing and marching out of the room. Apparently life as President hadn't erased all those years of military training, because he still carried himself like a soldier.

“Alexander. _Mr_. Jefferson.” Jefferson muttered bitterly under his breath, stalking out of the room behind Hamilton. “President’s pet.” he hissed, nudging Alex with his elbow as he shoved past.

Hamilton huffed, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and called after Jefferson, “You're just upset because Washington approved my debt plan, which should've been approved months ago, if not for you opposing me just for the sake of opposing me.”

Jefferson turned to face him, shoulders squared, eyes narrowed. He was ready for a fight, which was fine by Alex, who had slept almost six whole hours last night and was currently bouncing off the walls with energy thanks to those three cups of coffee.

“I opposed your debt plan because it sucked. But no matter what I do, Washington always takes your side.”

“He takes my side because your side is wrong.” Alex fired back.

“Oh, and you're always right?” Jefferson demanded.

“Yes!”

“You egotistical, obnoxious little-”

“Pompous, narcissistic, son of a-”

They were up in each other’s faces now, red-faced and shouting. Their co-workers didn't even spare the pair a passing glance as they bustled down the hall, skirting around them totally unfazed. This sort of thing had become commonplace. Just another day at the office.

* * *

“Alexander! Hurry up.” Angelica yelled, checking her phone again and sighing impatiently.

“I'm coming, I'm coming.” Alex shouted, fingers fumbling as he rushed to tie his tie, hurrying down the hallway to the front door, where Angelica stood waiting, dressed in a soft pink cocktail dress, her hair pinned up in an elegant updo.

“You look great.” he said, grinning at her.

“You too. Oh, but your tie is crooked.” was her reply, and she leaned forward to fix it, tucking her clutch purse under her arm.

“Yeah, take your time, it's not like we’re late for the banquet. Which I'm giving a speech at.” Alex muttered as Angelica yanked on his tie. She smelled strongly of lavender and hairspray.

“We’re late because somebody took forty minutes to get ready.” Angelica accused, stepping back, at last satisfied with her adjustments to his tie.

“Well, sorry.” he said under his breath, following her as she strode out the door.

“We aren't even that late.” Angelica reassured him as they joined the throng of well-dressed guests. He felt very short next to her in her five-inch heels. A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses, and Angelica’s grip on his arm tightened slightly as she waved the waiter away.

“What's our deal tonight, Alexander?” she asked, smiling blandly at the other guests as they moved through the crowd toward an empty table in the corner.

“No drinking.” he answered, fighting to keep a pleasant expression on his face.

“Hey.” Angelica said, bumping her hip against his lightly. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

“No problem. Thought you’d enjoy it. Plus, you're an angry drunk, and there's a lot of politicians here who are very anti-feminist. You make a good debating partner.” Alex chuckled at Angelica’s indignant expression. “I gotta go, y’know, get ready for my speech, so you're cool on your own, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Break a leg, Alex.” Angelica shot him a dazzling little smile before disappearing into the crowd again.

* * *

Thomas stood in the corner, glass of champagne in one hand, the other hand fidgeting with his collar as he fought off a small panic attack. There were a lot of people here, all of them expecting the charismatic, eloquent Thomas Jefferson, not the Thomas Jefferson who got nervous in large crowds and stammered his way through casual conversations.

Give him a topic he was passionate about, a political issue or a controversial opinion, and he could talk all day without stumbling over a single syllable. But talking about the weather or who was doing who around the office made him want to run and hide. Small talk was a skill he couldn't seem to master.

Instead of focusing on his crippling fear of social situations, he tried instead to focus on Hamilton’s voice as he delivered his speech from the podium at the front of the room. He was totally at ease, smiling as he went on about international debts or whatever it was he was talking about. Around Thomas, everyone else listened intently, hanging on Alexander’s every word.

Hamilton was a good writer, one couldn't deny that. And the man could talk. Jefferson wouldn't be surprised if they were still standing here, listening, two hours later.

But thank God, Hamilton kept things short and sweet.

At the end of his speech, he shook the French ambassador’s hand, still smiling warmly. Thomas realized belatedly he should've been clapping.

“Are you finished with that? Thanks.” a voice said, and his champagne glass was snatched from his hand.

“Angelica.” Thomas inclined his head in greeting. “You look lovely.”

She downed the champagne in one go and raised her eyebrows at him. “I believe the invitation said black tie, not purple tie.”

“Ah, but purple is my colour.” Thomas tsked, smiling faintly as Angelica grabbed another flute of champagne from a passing waiter and gulped it down.

“That it is.” she said, her cheeks rosy from the alcohol. “Sorry, I'm trying to do all my drinking away from Alex.” she explained. “Really, I shouldn't be drinking at all. He promised not to-oh, speak of the devil. Alex, your speech was great!” she praised.

Hamilton smiled at her. “Thanks. Jefferson.” he added, nodding curtly.

“Hamilton.”

“I think I see Washington...shall we, Angelica?” He held out his arm, Angelica took it, and they both flounced away, leaving Thomas stranded in the ocean of unknown faces.

* * *

Alexander hated these functions. He hated having to fake a smile, hated having to pretend like he was interested in whether or not some society girl from Spain was banging the British Prime Minister. Honestly, he could care less.

But he could feel Washington’s eyes on him from across the room, so he faked a polite smile and pretended to be interested in the conversation, until he just couldn't take it anymore and excused himself, escaping into the men’s room.

“Oh. Jefferson. Sorry.” he said, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the other man, the door banging shut behind him. Jefferson was hunched over the sink, splashing water onto his face with shaking hands.

“Shit, are you okay?” Alex blurted.

Jefferson probably meant to sound angry when he replied, “I'm fine.” but his voice trembled. His breathing was fast, shallow, like he was having an anxiety attack.

“Woah, Thomas, it's okay.” Alex soothed, tentatively putting a hand on Jefferson’s arm. “Just...just breathe.”

Jefferson had sunk to the floor, head resting on his knees. Alex rubbed his back, did his best to console him.

“It's okay, Thomas. Hey, can you do something for me? You can just nod yes, you don't need to talk if you feel like you can’t.”

Slowly, Jefferson nodded. “Okay. What I need you to do is just focus on your breathing, okay?”

Again, Thomas nodded.

“Count to ten with me. You can do it. One, two, three, four, five-yeah, that's it, just concentrate on your breathing-six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Great, that was great! You feeling better?” Alex said slowly. Thomas breathing had started to even out again, and he'd stopped shaking.

He raised his head, and Alex smiled hesitantly at him. “You good?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Thomas said hoarsely, swallowing hard. “That...counting thing...really helped.”

“No problem. I used to get panic attacks in college, and that's one of the things that helped me.”

Jefferson leaned back against the bathroom wall, and Alex watched him cautiously, watched his chest rise and fall evenly, watched his eyes go from wide and panicked to something more like exhausted.

“I have this fear of social situations.” Thomas admitted quietly. “And sometimes I get kind of overwhelmed.”

“Oh.” Absently, Alexander realized he was still rubbing slow circles on Thomas’s back.

“I can stay with you for the rest of the night. I'm sure Ange won't mind.” he found himself offering.

Thomas kept averting his gaze, as if he didn't want to meet Alex’s eyes. Like he was ashamed. “You'd do that?”

Alex shrugged. “Sure. I owe you, right?”

“Damn right you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next, a guest appearance from America's favourite founding fuckboi.....


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander was about to turn and go back inside. There, Jefferson wouldn't be able to see him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's guest star, as some of you may have guessed, is bEN FRANKLIN HELL YEA 
> 
> I had to do a lot of research on this dude since I've never studied American history just to write this chapter I hope you're all happy

Hamilton stayed by Jefferson’s side for the rest of the night, doing what he did best; talking.

Thomas nodded along to the conversation, not really listening to what was being said, trying instead to just keep his breathing steady, to keep his face neutral and pleasant.

To seem like he was in control, when really he felt as lost as a leaf in the wind.

Sometimes Hamilton would pull him aside in a quiet, secluded corner, and ask him if he was okay. The first time he did this, Thomas had blinked at him, disconcerted by Hamilton’s sudden concern. He'd snapped, “I’m fine.” and Hamilton’s had taken a step backward, taken aback by Thomas’s harsh tone.

“Thomas, my friend!” boomed a loud voice. Thomas turned, startled, and saw a stout man with a long, greying mullet, round yellow-tinted glasses, and a horrendous tweed suit with elbow patches that was an object of Thomas’s worst nightmares making his way toward him and Hamilton. Alexander was wide-eyed with alarm.

“Dr. Franklin!” Thomas said warmly, clapping the man on the shoulder. “It's good to see you.”

“And Mr. Hamilton. Your speech was quite good, I rather enjoyed it. Well done, well done.” Franklin grasped Hamilton’s hand and shook it rigorously. Alexander’s dark eyes were as wide as saucers. “Very good to meet you. Benjamin Franklin.”

“Yes, I gathered. Uh, Alexander Hamilton.” Hamilton said hurriedly.

Thomas stifled a smile. Ben was an acquired taste.

“I read your paper on conservation of charge. Very interesting.”

Ben beamed. “Thank you, thank you very much, Alexander.”

“So, Thomas, how have you been?” Ben asked. Thomas attempted to look at Ben’s face rather than his absolutely hideous suit.

Thomas shrugged. “You know me. Same old.”

“ _Même vieux_.” Ben said, nodding sagely. Thomas made a noise of agreement, and Alex turned to Franklin in surprise.

“Your French is very good.” he said.

“Ah, well, back in the day I was the U.S ambassador to France. Thomas here was my successor, in fact.” Franklin regarded Thomas with pride. “You speak French, Mr. Hamilton?”

“French _est ma langue maternelle, en fait_.” Alexander said.

Even Thomas was mildly surprised by this fact. He would never have guessed Hamilton’s first language wasn't English.

Franklin turned back to Thomas, raised his eyebrows at him. “No lady friend tonight, Thomas? Or...a boyfriend? Oh! Are you and Mr. Hamilton here together…?”

“Hamilton and I?” Thomas nearly choked on his drink. “No. God, no. He's just...a co-worker.”

“Hmm. No workplace romance-”

“Ben!”

Ben held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

“How’s Deborah?” Thomas asked. “I heard she had another stroke?”

Ben waved his hand, dismissive. “She's fine, she's fine. Recovering.”

“That's good to hear.” Thomas said, wishing suddenly he hadn't brought Ben’s ill wife up, when Franklin’s earnest face fell. Not for the first time that night he was cursing his social ineptitude.

Just breathe. Alexander’s voice echoed in his head. Count to ten.

Franklin had barrelled right ahead, however, so Thomas didn't have time to dwell on his fuck-up. He was now talking about a recent UFO sighting in New York, and Thomas smiled and nodded, pretending to care about his old friend’s passion for alien conspiracy theories.

The whole concept, in Thomas’s opinion, was quite ridiculous. Not the theory that aliens exist, because in a galaxy so infinitely vast it would be foolish to assume they were alone in it, but the theory that aliens were watching and abducting humans, that was ludicrous. He was about to ask Hamilton his opinion, maybe start a debate, but Hamilton had disappeared.

He searched the sea of faces around him frantically, but there was no sign of Alexander’s familiar long, dark hair, or his cocoa-coloured eyes or- _whoa, Thomas, focus._

 _Breathe_.

He ignored Benjamin’s perplexed, “Thomas, what's the matter?” growing more and more panicked by the minute and-

And then Alexander grabbed his arm and brought him back to Earth.

“Hey. I'm here.” Hamilton murmured. “Sorry, I just saw Angelica over there. I shouldn't have left.” Then, louder, “I think Jefferson and I should step outside for a bit of air. It was nice talking to you, Dr. Franklin.”

“Ah, no, the pleasure was mine, Mr. Hamilton. I think I see the ambassador over there-perhaps I'll go say hello. Enjoy the rest of your evening, gentleman.” Ben said, patting Thomas’s arm before disappearing into the crowd.

Disoriented and dazed, Thomas let Alexander guide him to the door. The cool night air washed over him, and he took a deep, grateful breath.

“You okay? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you back there. I just...I thought you'd be fine with Franklin and-”

“Hamilton, it's all right. I'm fine.” he said, but it was more to convince himself of that than Hamilton.

He sat down on the stone step. It was weirdly quiet in the city at night, though you wouldn't think it would be, not in a big city like D.C. Peaceful.

It felt like another world.

A world where Thomas could take Alexander into his arms and kiss him and make him his.

But he didn't.

Because he was a coward, and he always would be, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he wasn't.

He played the charming, overconfident, arrogant politician, but really he was slowly falling apart.

* * *

Alex stood, hands in his pockets, leaning against the back wall.

Jefferson was sitting on the steps, staring blankly in the direction of Pennsylvania Avenue.

“Hey. You okay?” Alex asked him again softly.

Jefferson sighed, then nodded slowly. “I told you, I'm fine.”

“I can drive you home, if you want.”

“I just need to sit quietly for five seconds, Alexander. Can you just shut up for five fucking seconds?” Jefferson snarled, and Alex flinched when he said ‘ _Alexander_.’

“Sorry.” he mumbled. His eyes were stinging with tears. He was used to Jefferson shouting at him, so the sharp remark shouldn't have hurt so much.

Thomas sighed again.

“I’m just trying to help, you know.” Alexander snapped, and he was about to turn and go back inside. There, Jefferson wouldn't be able to see him cry.

“I know.” Jefferson said. “I’m sorry for getting angry with you.” Then, “I should head home. I can't…”

“Okay.” Alex said softly. “‘Night, dickhead.” he teased, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight, Hamilton. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Alex went back inside, leaving Jefferson on the steps. There were tears in his eyes, blurring his vision as he blindly searched the room for Angelica.

“Alex? What's the matter?” she asked, expression clouding with concern when she saw his face.

“Nothing. I'm just tired.” he lied. “Drive me home?”

“Uh. I think you'd better drive.” she said sheepishly, handing him the keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @starkscully 
> 
> (you guys are awesome thanks for all the lovely feedback!!)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He drank until his vision went fuzzy, and even then he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
> 
> Eventually, he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay so this chapter is kinda the beginning of the climax idk but like get ready for lots of pain and angst :))) 
> 
> a good half of this takes place in a hospital so if that bothers anyone id advise you not to read this one stay safe friends

Alex was probably stupid for hoping that the night of the banquet would change things between him and Jefferson.

Things had felt different that night. He'd had the strange urge to kiss Thomas a few times. Like when he'd pulled him aside into a quiet corner and asked him if he was okay, and Thomas had stood there, broad shoulders tense, posture stiff, staring down at Alexander with his dark chocolate eyes wide and nervous.

Alex had wanted to kiss him and pull him into his arms until he was okay, until that scared, deer-in-the-headlights look was gone from his face.

But that was never going to happen, a fact that was cemented the next day at work.

The cabinet held a meeting, most of the politicians tired and hungover after the previous night’s festivities. Even Washington looked a little out of it.

Alexander, for once, was not hungover. He left the meeting in a good mood, having totally destroyed Jefferson’s argument against supporting France in their conflict with Britain.

Jefferson left the cabinet room in a tizzy, Madison at his side.

He considered going Jefferson’s office to gloat, and found himself turning down the hallway that lead there almost subconsciously.

He was never going to have Jefferson the way he wanted to. He knew that. It was just wishful thinking.

He would still have Jefferson has his nemesis though, and their debates, their quick, sharp-as-knives remarks, the hatred for each other that only they shared...that was definitely the next best thing.

But as Alex approached Jefferson’s office, he stopped in his tracks.

He felt frozen to the spot. He knew he shouldn't be standing here, just _watching_ , but he just couldn't move.

Jefferson and Madison were inside Jefferson’s office, and through a gap in the door Alex could see that Jefferson was leaning back against his desk, pants around his ankles, a shirtless Madison on his knees in front of Jefferson...

Alex felt like he was going to throw up.

Thomas wasn't his, had never been his, would never be his, but to see him like that with someone else...he felt like his lungs were slowly filling with sand.

He turned on his heel and ran, ran all the way out to the street, hailed a cab, and found a dive bar that stank of cheap beer and cigar smoke.

He drank until his vision went fuzzy, and even then he didn't stop. He couldn't stop, not until the image of Jefferson with Madison had been erased from his mind.

Eventually, he blacked out.

* * *

Madison didn't go home with Thomas. He never did. He never stayed the night.

He was a temporary fix, a brief distraction.

The next day Thomas would go to work, and go to lunch with Madison as if his friend hadn't sucked his dick several hours ago.

Whatever it was he had with James, it wasn't a relationship. He certainly wasn't interested in one with Mads. Maybe he had been at some point, but not anymore.

But whenever Thomas needed an escape from reality, a diversion from all the stress of work, James was happy to help.

The only problem was it always left Thomas feeling empty afterwards. Lying awake in bed, alone, wishing it wasn't just a casual thing. Wishing he had something real.

His ringtone cut through his reverie, startling him. He groaned and grabbed it off the nightstand.

 _Eliza Schuyler_ , the screen read.

Why on Earth was Eliza calling him at this hour?

He answered it.

"Thomas?"

"Eliza?"

"Yeah. Um, I hope this isn't a bad time...did-did I wake you?"

"No, no, I was awake." Thomas said. Her voice was shaky, like she was scared. "Is something wrong?"

"Um, well, I'm just...I'm just kind of calling everybody...um...Alex is here. In the hospital, I mean."

Thomas sat bolt upright in bed, his heart in his throat. "What? The hospital? What the hell happened? Is he okay?"

"Alcohol poisoning." Eliza told him, and her wavering voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"I'll be right there." Thomas said briskly, trying to hide the worry and fear creeping into his voice, then hanging up.

Eliza was waiting by the nurses station when he arrived, chewing her thumbnail anxiously. Angelica was there too, pacing back and forth, her expression unreadable, and Laurens and Lafayette were sitting in the waiting area, holding hands.

"Where is he? Is he okay?" Thomas demanded fiercely, grabbing Eliza’s arm.

  
Eliza looked up, her eyes wide and a little frightened. “He's fine.” Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair coming loose from its braid, her scrubs rumpled. Angelica stopped pacing to gently pry Thomas off of her sister.

“They had to...to pump his stomach. But he's okay now. They have him on fluids and oxygen." Eliza’s voice caught, and silent tears began streaming down her face.

Gently, Angelica lead her sister to a chair, made her sit.

A nurse in orange scrubs appeared, cleared her throat.

"You can see him now. He's going to be just fine."

He's going to be just fine. The words echoed in Thomas's ears, relief washing over him like a wave.

"You go ahead, I'll...I'll wait here." Thomas told the four others. He didn't voice his thoughts aloud, but he knew Hamilton wouldn't want to see him.

Eliza nodded, Angelica thanked him quietly, and they disappeared down the hall.

Thomas, suddenly exhausted, sank into one of the stiff plastic waiting room chairs, his hands lying helplessly in his lap. He tapped his foot, listened to the analog clock on the wall tick out slow minutes that felt more like years, watched for any activity down the empty hallway that led to Alexander's room.

But the hospital remained empty, remained silent.

He woke to Lafayette shaking his shoulder, and he realized he must have dozed off.

"We're going to get a coffee, if you want to see him." Laurens explained in a hushed voice.

Thomas nodded, got to his feet, and made his way down the deserted hallway, the tang of the antiseptic smell all hospitals seemed to possess stinging his nose. He pushed open the door to Hamilton's room with mechanical movements, taking in the scene before him. Eliza was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Alexander's limp hand. Angelica stood by his side, stroking her hand through his hair, her forehead creased with worry.

Hamilton lay there, unmoving, his eyes closed, a cannula in his nose, a tangle of tubes and IV lines stuck in his arm.

Eliza looked up when he entered, and she stood.

"We'll give you a moment." she murmured, squeezing his arm gently as she brushed past him, her older sister in tow.

Thomas crossed to the bed, looked down at Hamilton. His hair was matted, splayed across his pillow in a greasy, tangled mess, his face was pale. He looked smaller and more fragile than ever, lying there and needing a machine to help him breathe. Thomas bit back a sob, his knees giving way beneath him as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Slowly, he brushed a piece of hair out of Alexander's face, and Hamilton stirred.

"Jefferson?" he mumbled.

"Hamilton. Jesus Christ." Thomas muttered, taking Alex's hand in his.

Hamilton stared down at their intertwined fingers blearily, and, weakly, he squeezed Thomas's hand.

"Are you still drunk?" Thomas asked.

"Mmm. A little. My head hurts." he whined. "When can I go home?"

Thomas shushed him, stroked little circles on the back of Alex's hand with his thumb. "Soon. In the morning."

"Thomas?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you..." He was looking at Thomas, eyes wide and pleading. "Will you...stay? Tonight?"

Thomas felt his face soften into a gentle smile. "Yeah. Of course." He moved to the other side of the bed, away from the monitors and fluid bags that Alexander was hooked up to, and lay beside him. Alexander turned over and snuggled himself against Thomas's chest. Thomas curled himself around the smaller man, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close.

"You smell like vomit." Thomas whispered, and Alex cringed. "Sorry."

"Go to sleep, Alexander." Thomas told him softly, resting his chin on Alexander's head.

When he woke, Eliza was sitting in a chair beside the bed, a worn paperback in her lap. The sky outside the tiny window was bright. It was morning.

"Hi." she said, smiling. She looked exhausted.

"How long were you-"

"Not long. It's nearly 10 o’clock, they're releasing him." she nodded toward Alex, who was still fast asleep, head in the crook of Thomas's neck. "We already filled out all of the paperwork."

Thomas looked down at Alexander, sleeping contently in his arms. "Should I wake him?"

"Let him sleep. I'll go get him a wheelchair. Hospital policy." she added in explanation, shrugging.

She stood and left the room, and Thomas sank back into the uncomfortable mattress, careful not to disturb Hamilton.

When Eliza came back, the wheelchair's wheels squeaking on the tiled floor, Alexander was awake, sitting up in bed and picking at the tape on the IV needle in his arm.

"Don't pull on that." Thomas chastised, eyeing Hamilton nervously as Eliza set about disconnecting all his tubes and IV lines.

"Peggy and Angelica went and got you some clean clothes." Eliza told Alexander, holding out a backpack, which he took gratefully, shuffling toward the bathroom.

He emerged a few minutes later, wearing sweatpants and a baggy tshirt that was much too big for him. He'd pulled his messy hair into a ponytail, but he was still pale, his hands shaky.

He didn't protest when Eliza had him sit in the wheelchair, made no objection when Thomas offered to push the chair, just sat there with a blank, tired expression, the backpack in his lap.

The whole gang was clustered in the waiting room when they came down the hall. Peggy was holding balloons. The nurses at the nurses station were frowning at them.

"Let's get out of here," Eliza suggested, casting a wary glance at the sour-faced nurses, and the group trailed after them as Thomas wheeled Hamilton out to the parking lot.

"He came in by ambulance last night, so I'll take him home to our place." Eliza offered, stifling a yawn and waving her sisters over.

"No, you're exhausted. I'll drive him home, stay at his apartment for a bit." Thomas said.

"Really? You don't mind?" she asked, her eyes wide and thankful.

"I mind." Hamilton muttered, looking up at them.

"You're really in no position to negotiate, since you just hospitalized yourself with alcohol poisoning." Eliza said sternly. "You go home with Thomas. Shower. Eat. Sleep. Take some aspirin." she ordered.

"Okay." Alex sighed. Eliza gave him a hug, Angelica bent and kissed his cheek, and once everyone had said goodbye and told him to get well soon, he grudgingly allowed Thomas to help him into the passenger seat of Thomas's car.

"I don't need your help." Hamilton grumbled, and Jefferson almost flinched at the waspish remark.

"Consider this your punishment, then." he fired back, all of the tenderness of the previous night gone from his voice.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas drifted asleep with Alexander in his arms, drooling all over his shirt.

As soon as they walked in the door of Hamilton’s apartment, Hamilton mumbled something about taking a shower and disappeared down the hall.

Thomas stood awkwardly in the living room area, which was a mess-there were dirty dishes, stray papers covered in Alexander’s barely legible handwriting, and piles of unfolded laundry everywhere.

He sat down on the couch, listened to the muffled sound of the water running in the bathroom, and pulled out his phone.

 ** _To:_ Jemmy:** Can you tell Washington I won’t be in today  
 **Jemmy:** sure, why tho?  
 ** _To:_ Jemmy: ** he probably knows

 **Eliza Schuyler:** how is he?   
**_To:_ Eliza Schuyler: **he's okay  
 **Eliza Schuyler:** call if you need anything :) thanks again

Thomas looked up from the screen when Hamilton shuffled into the kitchen, his hair dripping wet, wearing a fresh pair of pyjamas. Thomas stood, and wordlessly retrieved the aspirin from the medicine cabinet while Alexander put a slice of bread into the toaster.

“You can shower if you want.” Hamilton told him. His voice was raspy. “Bathroom’s down the hall, on the right.”

“Thanks.” Thomas said quietly. “Make sure to drink some water.”

The bathroom was small and cluttered, like the rest of the apartment. He showered quickly, just trying to get the smell of hospital and Alexander’s puke off. He washed his hair with Hamilton’s citrus flower shampoo- _For increased volume and softness!_ -then found a hair tie and pulled his damp hair back into a ponytail.

When he returned to the kitchen, Hamilton was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, a piece of burnt, blackened toast beside him, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Oh, Alex…” Thomas breathed, kneeling beside him and pulling the crying man into his arms. Hamilton clutched fistfuls of Thomas’s shirt, sobbing into his chest. “It's okay. It's okay, Hamilton.”

Eventually, his heaving, wheezing cries were quieted, and he buried his face in Thomas’s shoulder, his breathing uneven.

“What's wrong?” Thomas murmured, holding Alex to him.

Alexander’s voice was muffled. “I...I burned my toast.”

Thomas couldn't hold back a chuckle. “It's okay. I'll make you more toast.”

“Everyone’s gonna be so mad at me. They're gonna hate me.” Hamilton mumbled.

“For burning your toast?”

“No, no. For...for...last night. They're all disappointed in me. They all hate me. You hate me.”

“Alex, no, I don't hate you.” Thomas soothed, his heart seizing in his chest as he regarded the pitiful, tear-streaked face of the man who had once been his nemesis.

What Hamilton was to him now, he didn't know.

“Come on, let's get you to bed.” Thomas said, and he scooped Alexander into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

“I’m hungover, not infirm.” Alex muttered, but he leaned his head on Jefferson’s shoulder nonetheless.

He laid Alex down on the bed, turned to leave the room, but Hamilton grabbed his wrist.

“Hey. Um. Can you...stay again? Just for a little while?” he asked timidly, chewing his lip.

“Sure.” Thomas said with a faint smile. He climbed into the bed beside Alexander, who immediately curled himself against Thomas.

Thomas drifted asleep with Alexander in his arms, drooling all over his shirt. 

* * *

When Alex woke, the bed beside him was cold and empty. Thomas was gone.

He could hear hushed voices in the other room. His head was aching. He needed more aspirin. And food.

He didn't want to leave the dark, quiet comfort of his bedroom, but he stumbled out of bed anyway and shuffled down the hall, the wood floors cold under his bare feet.

“Alexander.” Thomas’s voice said when Alex entered the kitchen. He blinked dully at Jefferson and Eliza, who were sitting at his kitchen table with cups of tea. “How was your nap?”

“Where's the aspirin?” Alex asked, his voice ragged and scratchy. His throat was burning.

Thomas got up and grabbed the aspirin off the counter, handing it to Alex. Their hands brushed, and Alex’s lungs stopped working for a minute.

“Thanks.” he managed to gasp out, grabbing a glass and turning away from Jefferson to fill it in the sink, hoping Thomas couldn't see how much he was blushing.

“How are you feeling?” Eliza asked.

Alex shrugged. “Hungry.”

“Want some toast?” Jefferson smirked, slotting a slice of bread into the toaster.

“Shut up.” Alex mumbled, joining Eliza at the table. She pulled his phone out of her purse. “I forgot to give you this last night.”

“Thanks.” He had thirty new text messages, most of them get-well wishes of some kind from every one of his friends, including Burr and Washington. He didn’t bother replying to them.He was still so tired, his brain all fuzzy from the alcohol and probably dehydration. He doubted he could string a coherent sentence together.

And Jefferson was still here, still in his sweatpants and worn-out tshirt from last night, with his hair smelling like Alex’s shampoo and his face unshaven. Alex watched him attempt to navigate the kitchen, watched how when he reached into a cupboard for a plate, his shirt rode up, giving Alexander a fleeting glimpse of his toned stomach.

He remembered the way it had felt to be pressed up against Thomas’s chest, to be carried by him, to be snuggled close to him as he fell asleep.

And then he remembered the way it had felt to see Thomas with James. To see him, pants off, Madison’s mouth around his-

Thomas set a plate of perfectly toasted, buttery toast down in front of him.

“Thanks.” Alex said, his voice hollow. He chewed the toast slowly, mechanically, then stood and went back to bed.

When Thomas called after him that he was leaving, and for Alex to feel better soon, Alex ignored him.

He burrowed under the blankets and let the tears that had been building up in his eyes fall, crying until he felt he had no more tears left to cry, and then he fell into an uneasy sleep.

When he woke the second time, Jefferson was gone, and Eliza was sitting on the couch, a book in her lap.

Eliza smiled when Alex came in.

“Hi. Feeling better?” she asked.

Alexander wanted to say, _No, I feel like shit, and I’ve let all of you down and if you hate me then I understand because I totally deserve it._

He didn’t, though. Instead he returned Eliza’s smile weakly, let her hug him, and told her that he was feeling a lot better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @starkscully   
> you guys are awesome ily all thanks so much for the lovely comments!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Didn't he owe at least this to John? To Eliza? To all of them? It wasn't fair to do this to them, to keep them waiting in fear for the day his...addiction...got the better of him and he drank until he wouldn't ever wake up again.

"So did you look at the AA pamphlets Eliza left you?” John asked, his voice sounding weirdly distant.

“Did you put me on speaker?” Alexander wondered, balancing his phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he booted up his laptop. He hadn't gone back to work yet, and he couldn't risk falling behind again. Catching up shouldn't be a problem, though. Hopefully.

“Yeah. I'm at Laf and Herc’s. Say hi, guys.”

“Who is it?” Herc's voice demanded. “Is it Alex?”

“Yeah, hi, Herc.” Alex said. “Is Laf there too? Hi, Laf.”

“Bonjour, Alexander!” Laf cried cheerfully.

“But seriously, dude. Did you look at the pamphlets?”

Alex sighed. “Not yet.”

“Look, I know you don't think you need help, but you do. No offense. And I think it's a good idea, I think it'll really help you.”

“But John-”

“No ‘buts,’ Alex. What if it happens again? What if it just gets worse?”

“Just go to one meeting, at least.” Herc cut in.

“Fine.” Alex agreed, grudgingly. “One meeting.”

“You promise?” John asked.

“I promise.” Alex replied.

“Put on Breaking Bad!” Herc’s voice suggested in the background as John said goodbye. “See you tonight.”

“Yeah, see you tonight.” Alex echoed, and they hung up.

There was a tense, apprehensive knot in his stomach as he looked up from his laptop at the stack of pamphlets Eliza had left.

Alexander was a prideful person. He wasn't afraid to admit that. When he'd had nothing-no family, no home, no money-just the clothes on his back and his top-notch brain, he'd written his way out. He’d saved himself, earned himself passage on that ship to New York.

Maybe it made him self-centred. But when you had nothing, didn't you kind of deserve to be proud of what you did have?

In any case, his pride was often his biggest flaw, his Achilles heel, another fact he wasn't afraid to admit. Hey, he was only human.

And in this case his pride was perhaps the one and only thing preventing him from listening to his friends and actually taking care of himself for once.

Didn't he owe at least this to John? To Eliza? To all of them? It wasn't fair to do this to them, to keep them waiting in fear for the day his...addiction...got the better of him and he drank until he wouldn't ever wake up again.

He sighed and closed the laptop, grabbing one of the pamphlets off the pile and beginning to read.

Guess he wouldn't be getting much work done today after all.

* * *

“Alexander!” Maria exclaimed when she answered the door, immediately yanking him into a bone-crushing hug.

Her perfume smelled...spicy. Like cinnamon, Alex noticed.

“Maria...I can't breathe.” he croaked, and she released him.

“Sorry. I'm just happy to see you.” she said with a sheepish smile.

Alex regarded the empty living room of Laf and Herc’s apartment. “Am I early?”

“No, the boys are in the kitchen.” Maria said. “Guys, Alex is here!”

Laurens was the first to poke his head out of the kitchen doorway. He smiled brightly. “Alex!”

“Hey, John.”

Laf and Mulligan followed John into the living room.

“Alexander, _mon petit lion! Comment ça va?_ ”

“ _Je me sens beaucoup mieux, si c’est ce que tu demandes_.”

Laf chuckled. “ _Je suis heureux de l’entendre._ ”

Mulligan was sprawled on the couch beside John, and he pulled Laf into his lap, muttering something along the lines of ‘talk French to me, baby,’ and making the Frenchman giggle. Maria was perched on the arm of the loveseat. She pointed at the three of them, then mimed throwing up, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Alexander grinned, and when Maria patted the seat beside her, he went and sat.

Despite being an anxious man, Alexander wasn’t necessarily shy. He certainly wasn’t meek or timid in his relationships, and he had never been one to hesitate about anything or back down from a fight. There was a reason Burr had gifted him the nickname ‘Non-Stop Hamilton’ back in college.

So when Burr, Jefferson-much to Alex’s chagrin, and the Schuyler sisters had arrived and Peggy suggested they play Truth or Dare, Alex volunteered to go first, despite Burr’s protests that they were too old for Truth or Dare.

“Okay, truth or dare?” Peggy asked once they were sitting in a circle, cross-legged on the floor like elementary school kids. Alex rocked back on his hands, pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Dare.” he grinned.

“Aw, but I suck at coming up with dares.” Peggy grumbled. “Um...okay! I’ve got one. I dare you to sit in Thomas’s lap for the rest of the game.”

Thomas’s eyebrows flew up so fast Alex wondered if they were going to fly off his forehead and into outer space. “Why me?” he asked.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do.” Alex told him, but there was shit-eating grin on his face as he climbed into Thomas’s lap, his back pressed against the taller man’s chest.

 _Which was,_ Alex thought to himself as he leaned his head on Thomas’s shoulder, _not true,_ because he was enjoying himself very much.

“Comfy?” Thomas asked, casting a sidelong glance at Alexander.

“Yep.” Alex answered smoothly. It would be ridiculously easy to kiss him right now. If Alex twisted himself just so, his lips were a hair’s breadth away from Thomas’s jaw. If it was anyone else, if it were Laurens or even Maria, he might have. But this was Thomas Jefferson-possibly the only person who made Alexander ‘Non-Stop’ Hamilton feel small and shy. So he didn’t. He turned away and said,

“So, I get to ask the next one, right? Uhhh…Herc. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Herc said decisively.

“Okay. For the rest of the game, you gotta talk like Mickey Mouse.” Alex told him. Herc groaned, then said in perfect imitation of everyone’s favourite cartoon mouse, “Like this?” John was laughing so hard he was tearing up. The squeaky voice didn’t fit at all with the image of big, tough, burly Hercules.

“Oh my God.” Alex said, scrubbing a hand over his face. His chest hurt from laughing.

“Your turn, Mulligan.” Peggy prompted.

“Angelica,” he sang, still talking like Mickey Mouse. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” she said.

“Are you or are you not interested in Burr?”

“Herc, that’s mean.” John scolded. However, Burr’s forehead had creased in a deep frown. “Why would you ask that?”

“Uh, ‘cause we all know about your secret crush on Angelica?” Mulligan said. He was trying to be blunt, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the shrill voice he was still speaking in.

Burr stared at Mulligan like he'd grown a second head. “I’m engaged.” he said, pulling out his phone and showing them all his lockscreen, which was a picture of him with his arms around a pretty woman with dark curly hair. She was smiling, and there was indeed a diamond engagement ring on her finger. “Her name’s Theodosia.” he said fondly.

“You never mentioned you had a girlfriend.” Laurens said, letting out a long, low whistle. “Congrats, dude.”

Burr shrugged. “Thanks. And, well, you never asked.”

“Okay, well, I guess that means I can freely say that I’m definitely not interested in Burr.” Angelica said, looking a little at a loss for words. “No offence, Burr.”

“None taken. I think the fact that the first thing you said to me was, and I quote, ‘Burr, you disgust me,’ kinda clued me in.” Burr chuckled.

Angelica sighed, rolled her eyes. “I’ll never hear the end of that, huh?” Burr shook his head. “Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you guys should watch that one ham4ham where Oak sings defying gravity in the Mickey Mouse voice bc that one dare was not all inspired by the ham4ham 
> 
> anyway thank you all so much for reading/commenting/leaving kudos ily all   
> hmu on tumblr @starkscully


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd learned early on that he had to go out and get something if he wanted it. It wasn't going to be handed to him.
> 
> And right now, at 2AM on Saturday night, what he wanted was Thomas Jefferson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the wait is over friends.....  
> this is it  
> the long-awaited confession of love.......

“So what should we watch?” Angelica asked, snatching up the remote. The Truth or Dare game had been abandoned ages ago when Laf started to complain he was hungry and made Herc and John go out for KFC.

Alex perked up, opened his mouth, and was immediately met with a chorus of, “Not National Treasure!”

His face twisted into a frown. “I wasn't even gonna say National Treasure, guys. I was gonna say the second National Treasure!” he finished, his frown dissolving into a wicked grin.

Angelica sighed, but she put _Book Of Secrets_ on.

* * *

Thomas raised his eyebrows at Hamilton as the opening credits flashed across the TV screen.

“National Treasure? You're such a dork.” he muttered, forcing his endeared smile to become a sneer. Hamilton hushed him, waving an impatient hand. “Shut up, I love this movie.” he hissed, shifting to a more comfortable position. His knee was touching Thomas’s.

Thomas was a goddamn adult. He was not going to freak out over this like a fucking middle schooler.

Hamilton had been sitting in his lap less than an hour ago. Christ, He'd slept in the same bed as Hamilton on two occasions and managed to keep it together, but now he was losing his shit because their knees were touching.

_God, Thomas, what are you, thirteen?_

_No, wait. A thirteen year old would probably tell their crush they liked them. But you're too scared, right?_

_Coward._

Thomas’s hands clenched into fists. Fuck this. Fuck his stupid anxiety or whatever the fuck this was.

What was he supposed to do, give Hamilton a goddamn ‘check yes or no’ note?

They were barely fifteen minutes into the movie, but Thomas stood and excused himself to the bathroom, where he sat on the floor, back against the side of the bathtub, and put his head on his knees, trying to force his breathing to even out.

_Count to ten, Thomas. Count to ten._

* * *

Jefferson had been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. Alex was getting fidgety with worry, which frustratingly, made him unable to concentrate on the movie.

If Jefferson thought he was going to ruin National Treasure for Alex, well. He wasn't. Alex stood and padded down the hall to the bathroom, knocked lightly on the door.

“Jefferson? You okay in there?”

There was no reply.

“Goddamn it, Thomas.” Alex muttered. He knocked again, with a little more force this time.

“It's unlocked.” Jefferson called in a strained voice.

Alexander pushed the door open, only to find Jefferson curled on the bathroom floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly and that panicked look in his eyes.

“Oh, Thomas, it's okay.” Alex sighed, kneeling on the floor beside Jefferson and running a hand through his surprisingly soft, poofy curls.

“Hey, just count with me, Thomas.” Alexander urged gently. Slowly, he counted to ten, and Thomas’s breathing started to even out. “That was good. You did good. You okay now?”

Thomas cleared his throat. “Yeah. I'm fine.”

“Wanna come finish the movie?” Alexander asked.

Thomas hesitated.

“Aw, come on, man. Who doesn't love National Treasure?”

“Dork.” Jefferson muttered, but he stood followed Alex back down the hall. 

* * *

**_To:_ get Thomas and Alex together!!:** damn I thought the lap thing would work  
**_To:_ get Thomas and Alex together!!: **they were in the bathroom for a while though ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )  
**dude with approximately 881663849 names:** Peggy, patience is...how you say? a virtue?  
**_To:_ get Thomas and Alex together: **Laf I'm dying here the sExUaL tEnSiOn iS tOo MuCh

* * *

Alexander had never been the kind of person to wait for things to happen. In a world where the odds were always stacked against him, he couldn't afford to wait.

He'd learned early on that he had to go out and get something if he wanted it. It wasn't going to be handed to him.

And right now, at 2AM on Saturday night, what he wanted was Thomas Jefferson.

He was so, so tired of keeping this all bottled up.

Alex had already hit rock bottom when he'd woken up in the hospital with a machine pumping oxygen into his lungs, so he figured, what did he have to lose?

He pulled out his phone and typed out a hurried text to Jefferson.

He hit send. And then he turned over and fell asleep.

* * *

Thomas woke up Sunday morning to a grey, cloudy sky and a notification for a text message sent at two in the morning.

 **fucking Hamilton:** im in love with you

Thomas read the text again. Then he read it again. Then he put his glasses on and read it a fourth time, just to be sure.

Was this some kind of practical joke? Was Hamilton making fun of him?

He checked the time. It wasn't even nine o’clock yet, but knowing Hamilton, he was awake. Thomas dialled his cell phone number, waiting impatiently for him to pick up.

“Jefferson? It's eight twenty three in the goddamn morning-”

“Did you seriously tell me that you're in love with me over fucking text?” Thomas demanded.

Silence.

“Hamilton? You still there?”

“Yeah.” came the reply.

“So...what the fuck, Alexander?”

“Well, what the hell do you want me to say? Sike, I was just kidding, I don't really love you? Because...because that would be a lie.”

When Thomas didn't reply, Hamilton hesitantly asked, “Thomas?”

“Get dressed. I'll be at your place in ten.” was all Thomas said before hanging up.

* * *

Twelve minutes later, but who was counting-certainly not Alexander, there was knock on his apartment door.

“It's unlocked.” he called, grabbing a hair tie and making his way down the hall. “That was twelve minutes.”

Jefferson was standing in the entryway, wearing a burgundy raincoat, his expression unreadable.

He was wearing his glasses.

He looked good in glasses.

“Alexander.” he said, and Alex’s heart skipped a beat. Not Hamilton. _Alexander_.

“Hi.” he said softly. “Uh, come in, I guess.”

Jefferson made no move to take off his shoes or his coat. Alexander’s heart sank.

“So...what is this? You've come to laugh at me, then?” Alex said.

Thomas stared dumbly at him as Alexander continued his tirade.

"Come to laugh at stupid, idiot, Hamilton who just had to go and fall in love with a fucking asshole like you...You know what? Fuck you, Jefferson. Fuck. You." Alex spat, growing more and more angry when Jefferson didn't object, didn't correct him, didn't do any of the things he was supposed to do.

“I should've known not to get my hopes up when you showed up here.” Alexander was rambling now, talking more to himself then Jefferson. “I should've known someone like you wouldn't...wouldn't understand. Wouldn't love me back. Because you're in love with someone else, and it's not me, you're in love with Madison, and I was too late…”

“-Alexander.” Thomas started to say.

“Don't call me Alexander.” Alex growled.

“Just listen to me for one fucking minute!” Thomas cried, taking a step toward Alex. “Goddamn it, Alexander. Why did you say...why would you think I’m in love with Madison?” Thomas asked.

“Because I saw you! In your office!” Alex blurted.

A furrow appeared between Jefferson’s dark brows. “You saw that?” Alexander nodded.

Jefferson sighed, dragged a hand through his hair in agitation. “That was...what James and I have is purely casual. we’re just friends.”

“Pretty close friends.” Alex said bitterly.

“Some people...drink,” Thomas began, and Alex looked away, down at his shoes. “Some people do drugs. I have sex.” Jefferson finished simply.

“So...you don't love Madison.”

Jefferson shook his head. “No.”

“But do you…” Alexander couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to hear Jefferson’s answer.

He was going to say no.

In that moment, Alex was cursing how Jefferson reduced him to this, made him feel so timid, so...reticent. _Hadn't he used that word against Thomas in an argument once?_

“Do I love you?” Jefferson finished for him, and he was calm, cool, confident. The pompous Southern politician with his honeyed words and his scornful smirk.

Jefferson put a hand under Alex’s chin, gently tilted his head up so he was looking Thomas in the eyes. He was smiling, and it wasn't a mocking smile. It was warm, affectionate.

Alex heard his own sharp intake of breath, and then he was closing the distance between them, quick and impatient, their noses bumping together as he enveloped Jefferson's lips with his own. His hands were splayed on Thomas's chest, shoving him backwards until he had the taller man pressed up against the wall, the kiss growing fierce and rough.

Then Thomas was taking control, hands tangled in Alex's hair. He'd taken out Alexander’s hair tie, and was tugging at the loose strands, tipping Alex's head back to get better access to his mouth, his tongue brushing hungrily against the inside of Alex's cheek. Alex made a soft noise of pleasure in the back of his throat, practically melting into Jefferson's touch.

Both of them were flushed and breathless when they broke apart.

“For someone so smart you can be a real idiot sometimes.” Thomas sighed, his hands moving down from Alexander’s hair to rest of his hips.

“Did you just call me smart?” Alex asked, grinning giddily up at Thomas, who chuckled.

“Of course not. You spelled ‘Pennsylvania’ wrong on an official government document, remember? You idiot.”

Alex bristled at the insult, even though he was guessing Thomas didn't really mean it.

“Your word, not mine.” Thomas said with a teasing smile.

“That's only ‘cause I thought you hated me.” Alex mumbled.

“Oh, I hate you very much, don't worry.” Thomas reassured him. “You're annoying, you're petulant, you talk too much. You're a damn good kisser.”

"Hmm." Alex grinned at that, wiggled his eyebrows up at Thomas, who rolled his eyes. "I could go on." he said.

“For what it's worth,” Alex said. “I still hate you too. Your political beliefs are shitty, and you're an asshole.”

Thomas arched an eyebrow. “What happened to the Alex who was telling me he loved me? I liked him much better.”

“Don't push your luck.” Alex warned, shoving gently at Thomas’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but!! that's not the end  
> stick around, there's still a few more chapters
> 
>  
> 
> thanks so much for your comments/feedback  
> ily all!!  
> hmu on tumblr @starkscully


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK FRIENDS  
> I'm really super sorry for taking so long to get this ready for you guys but school was starting up again and I had to take some time to sort my shit out  
> I've been editing and rewriting these last few chapters and I'm finally satisfied  
> plus, I've also started working on a collab with my pal @sherlock_and_the_doctor she's pretty great check her out  
> all in all there was lot of distractions (and I procrastinated a lot) and that's why it took forever to get this up   
> again I'm really sorry and I hope these last couple chapters are worth it lmao

Five days after that Sunday morning, Alexander and Thomas still couldn't get enough of each other, stealing kisses in the hallway before cabinet meetings, spending nearly every night together.

Thomas and Alex had something Alex hadn't felt with anyone else he'd ever been with. Thomas was his biggest political enemy because he was the only one who could match Alex’s intellect and fiery wit. He was Alex’s equal, he was always just as aggressive, just as pushy. The same was true of their relationship.

Thursday morning, Alex woke up early. Waking up next to Jefferson was, although an unusual sensation, pretty nice.

Especially when his hair was all mussed and frizzy, and his mouth was slightly open as he drooled all over his silk pillowcase.

Careful not to disturb the still-sleeping Thomas, Alexander sat up and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, opening the Google Docs app and pulling up the draft of his latest essay.

It was maybe 8AM when Jefferson stirred, rolling over and sliding his arm around Alexander's waist.

"’Morning, asshole." Alex said, looking down at Thomas, who blinked back at him groggily.

"What time is it?"

"Seven."

"How long have you been up?"

Alex pursed his lips, thinking. "Since five, maybe?"

“Why’re you up so early?” Thomas groaned, sitting up in bed. His hair really was a mess. It was sticking up all over the place.

“Nice hairdo you got there.” Alexander said drily.

“Shut up.” Thomas grumbled. “You're not lookin’ so great either.” he remarked. His Southern drawl was more evident when he was sleepy.

He went to take a shower, and Alex stayed in bed, burrowing further under the warm covers.

Thomas had a king size bed, the rich fucker. Alex could lie across it sideways and and his feet barely reached the other edge of the mattress.

“Get your lazy ass out of bed, I have an early meeting today.” Thomas griped, back from his shower, his hair still damp and wearing only his pants and an unbuttoned shirt.

“Nooo. I'll just work from home today.” Alex groaned.

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, fingers working to button up his shirt. He raised his eyebrows at Alexander. “What's wrong?” he demanded.

“Nothing, I'm just tired.” Alex mumbled, using his favourite excuse.

“Babe, come on. What's wrong?” Thomas asked again, trailing a hand down Alex’s arm. Alex shivered at the contact.

“You have really cold hands.” he hissed.

“Alexander.”

Alex heaved a sigh. “Okay, fine. I've got AA tonight. And I don't wanna go.”

“Aw, babe, it won't be that bad.” Thomas said, smiling bemusedly as he pulled a reluctant Alex into his lap. “Want me to drive you?”

Alex nuzzled against Thomas’s neck. “Yeah.”

“I swear your pride will be the death of us all, Alexander. You're gonna do fine.” Thomas assured him, resting his chin on the top of Alexander’s head. “Now, hurry up and go get ready, we’re gonna be late.” 

* * *

“So...see you at lunch?” Alexander asked. His hands slid onto Thomas’s waist as he stepped closer, getting up onto his tiptoes to almost teasingly brush his lips across Thomas’s jaw.

“Hey, whoa, we’re at work,” Thomas murmured, ducking his head to press his lips to Hamilton’s. Alexander hummed with delight, his hand moving to the back of Thomas’s neck, pulling Jefferson down to his level as the kiss deepened.

“So?” Alex whispered against Thomas’s mouth. Thomas’s chuckled softly. “There’s a cabinet meeting before lunch, remember? I’ll see you then.”

Alexander grinned, raking his hands through his hair quickly to fix it. “Right. I’m gonna tear you apart.”

“Yeah, you can try.” Jefferson barked out an incredulous laugh. Alex flipped him off before turning and stalking off down the corridor to his office. “You’re buying lunch today!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Jefferson shook his head. “Always has to have the last word.” he muttered to himself. 

* * *

“Admit it. Admit it!” Alex goaded, darting ahead of Thomas as they left the cabinet room like an overexcited puppy.

“I have nothing to say to you right now.” Thomas grumbled, glaring down at Hamilton.

“You’re such a sore loser. Come on, just say it! I’ll buy you lunch.” Alexander’s coffee-brown eyes were dancing with mischief.

“You can’t bribe me into admitting you won, you little shit.” Thomas muttered, dodging Alexander, who he’d almost tripped over.

Alex pouted. “You’re insufferable. Oh, and I was kidding about the lunch thing anyway.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m poor. I’ll meet you outside?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

Alex threw his coat on quickly and hurried to meet his boyfriend, who was waiting in the car out front for him.

He realized he’d just thought of Thomas as his boyfriend. Was it too soon for that? It had barely been a week. It had barely been five days.

“Are we...are we a couple? Like, are you...are you my boyfriend?”he asked Thomas hesitantly, sliding into the passenger seat.

Thomas looked over at him, looking a little startled. “Uh...well, I dunno. It’s only been-”

“Too soon?” Alex cringed.

“Do you...do you want me to be?” Thomas asked, cocking his head curiously at Alexander.

“Um...yeah. Yes.” Alex answered, tapping his fingers on his knee nervously. Was he taking things too fast? Did Thomas want this? What if he didn't, what if he only wanted Alex to be some kind of-of boy toy, what if he broke up with Alex-

Thomas put his hand over Alex’s. “Okay.” he said, smiling. Alex breathed a quiet, relieved sigh.

“Good. Okay.” he said, with a nervous little laugh. Thomas leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 

* * *

Lunch with Thomas was a brief distraction. Alex threw himself into his work for the rest of the afternoon, wishing he didn't feel so nervous about that night. He didn't really have reason to be, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he was going to throw up.

When Thomas drove him to the meeting, he kept listing excuses for him not to go.

“I haven't even had a drink in like, two weeks.”

“That doesn't mean it won't happen again.” Thomas pointed out.

“I don't need to go to a support group to be sober. I can do it on my own.” Alex continued, insistent.

Thomas was adamant. “I don't care, you're going.”

“My ‘problem’ isn't even that bad.” Alex protested. “I was sick that one time-”

“When I showed up at the hospital, they had you in ICU, with a machine helping you breathe.” Thomas said, and his voice was raised, angry. He sighed, looked over at Alex, who had shrunk down in his seat.

“Look, I shouldn't have shouted. I just...that scared me, Alex. Seeing you in the hospital with all those tubes and monitors and you couldn't even breathe on your own and I-”

“No, it's...it's okay. I'm just nervous, y’know? And kind of embarrassed. That I need help to...to get through this.”

“Don't be embarrassed, babe. You shouldn't be ashamed to need help.”

“It's just that...ever since I lost my mom...for more than half my life I've been alone. I had to be independent, do things for myself, because there was never anyone else to do things for me. There were no shortcuts. And now I can't even be that.”

“Well, you don't need to be alone anymore. You know that you can talk to me, right?” Thomas said hesitantly.

“Yeah.” Alex mumbled.

“Hey. It’s not gonna be as bad as you think. Maybe it'll go faster if you annoy the shit out of everyone. I'll be back in an hour, okay?” Thomas took Alex's hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Yeah. See you in an hour.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I feel really bad about not updating recently so here's another chapter as a peace offering

Hamilton's hands were shaking a little as he walked into the church hall. He couldn't help but feel shame rise in him as he took in the scene before him; a circle of chairs, a man dressed in a minister's clothes balancing a guitar and a cup of cheap coffee from the coffee machine sitting on the folding table in the corner.

Alexander took a seat beside a a red-haired woman who smiled kindly at him, despite the fact that she looked exhausted. The purple bags under her eyes were dark enough to rival even Alexander's.

"Hi. Are you new?" she asked quietly.

He swallowed, nodded. Her smile made him feel a little more at ease.

"It's a little harder the first time around, but it gets better. You get better," she told him. "I'm Abigail."

He shook her hand. "Alexander."

Once all of the chairs had been filled, the minister invited them all to join hands in prayer. Alex closed his eyes and under his breath, petitioned a God he hadn't prayed to in years for guidance.

The last time he'd prayed had been at his mother's funeral. He remembered watching his mother's coffin be lowered into the ground and feeling so angry. He'd been only twelve years old. He was still a kid. If God was so good and just, how could he take Alexander's mother from him when he was still so young? In what way was that fair?

But despite having not said them in years, the words felt familiar to him, and that was saying something, because Alex's life was nothing but words.

Then the minister introduced himself as Pastor Hugh Knox. He smiled around at the group, his expression filled with an almost fatherly stern tenderness. He reminded Alex of Washington. Knox was explaining some kind of twelve-step program to recovery. Alexander recalled reading about that somewhere.

They were then invited to share their experiences with the group, and they went around the circle.

Alex listened attentively, silently dreading his turn to share. When it was Abigail's turn, he cocked his head toward her with interest, wondering what her story was.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Abigail. I've been attending these meetings for over a year now, and thanks to that I've been sober. Until, uh, until about a month ago. My husband...hasn't exactly been...understanding of my...problem. I love him, he's a good man, but it's just...he's been less than supportive of me since he found out I was drinking again and I-"

"It's okay, Abigail, you don't have to keep going if you feel you can't." Pastor Knox intoned gently. Abigail nodded and sank back into her seat. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Your husband sounds like he's kind of a dick. No offense," Alex found himself blurting out.

Pastor Knox looked a little alarmed by his outburst. "Did you want to share something with the group..." He looked to Alex questioningly.

"Alexander," Alex supplied. "And I didn't mean to seem rude, Abigail. It's just I have a lot of a opinions and not much of a brain-to-mouth filter."

Abigail nodded gratefully.

"Anything else, Alexander?" Pastor Knox inquired.

Alex shrugged. "I don't really know what to say, to be honest. Um, I'm Alexander, I'm...an alcoholic. But you already know that stuff, so..."

"Why are you here? Why did you decide to come to the meeting?"

"Um. Well, a couple of weeks ago, I was hospitalized with alcohol poisoning. Which was scary not only for me but for my friends, and for my...boyfriend. So I'm here to get better. For them."

Pastor Knox looked satisfied with this answer. "Thank you, Alexander." 

* * *

“So how was it?” Thomas asked when Alex climbed into the passenger seat an hour later. His face was unreadable.

“Oh, God, I can never show my face there again. I said some rude shit about this woman, Abigail’s husband-”

“Alexander!”

“She just seemed so nice, and the way she talks about him, he sounded like a total asshole. Anyway, it wasn't even that bad. I apologized, chill, it's cool. She's not even mad. Other than that it was...okay.”

“So are you gonna go again next week?”

“Yeah. I wanna get better, y’know? For you, and for John, and Eliza, and everyone. I can't keep living like this, with everyone just...hovering over me, worried that the next time they see me it'll be in the hospital because I drank myself into a coma or something-” Alex was rambling, he knew, and Thomas took his hand, grounding him.

“Hey. It's good that you’re gonna keep doing this. I think it'll help you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a silence between them, the only sound the muffled noise of the radio, and Hamilton nervously drumming his fingers against his knee again.

“I need to ask you something. I need to be honest about it.” Alex blurted. It had been on his mind since the meeting, when Pastor Knox had asked them why they were all there.

For Alex, the downward spiral leading up to his friends begging him to join AA had all started with that night he saw Thomas with Madison in his office.

“Sure. What’s up?” Thomas asked.

“When I was in the hospital...that was because I saw you with Madison. In your office.” Hamilton said. He was fighting back tears now.

“What?” Thomas exclaimed. He jerked the steering wheel, pulled the car over on the side of the road. There were silent tears pouring down Alexander’s face.

“That...was why it happened. I was jealous, I guess. I had feelings for you, and I saw you with Madison, and I assumed you were gonna...and I didn’t want to feel the way I did, and then...then I woke up in the hospital and you were there and I dunno...now we’re here.” He stammered, gesturing helplessly.

“Oh, God.” Thomas murmured. “Alex…” He tried to reach over and wipe away Alex’s tears, but his hand was smacked away. “James and I...that was nothing. It was a casual thing. I was trying to distract myself. Trying to escape.”

“From what?”

“You. I thought you hated me. That I’d never have a chance with you.” Thomas admitted.

Alex started laughing then, a grin spreading over his face.

“What?” Thomas demanded, puzzled. “What’s so funny?”

“If we’d been honest with each other from the beginning, none of this would have happened. The alcohol poisoning, the AA meetings.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re-you make a good point.”

“Wait, were you gonna say that I was right?” Alex burst out gleefully, his eyes sparkling.

“Course not.” Thomas muttered.

Hamilton sighed. “I guess we’re both stubborn idiots who don’t know how to deal with their emotions.”

“Yeah. And by the way, that wasn’t me agreeing with you. That was me agreeing you're an idiot.” Thomas teased.

Alexander punched his arm lightly, playfully.

“Hey, Thomas?” Alex asked later, when Thomas parked the car in front of his apartment building.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna stay at my place tonight?”

“Oh, I dunno, babe, I’ve got so much work to do…”

“Can’t be that important, can it?” Alex was hitting him with the puppy dog eyes, wide and pleading. Thomas sighed. He couldn’t exactly be expected to resist a face like that, now could he?

“I mean, you’re only the Secretary of State. What do you even do, anyway?” Alex continued.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.” Thomas warned, smiling. He tucked his car keys into his pocket and followed Alex to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. yes Abigail Adams was John Adams's wife  
> 2\. Hugh Knox was an actual pastor in his hometown of St. Croix whom Alexander Hamilton admired  
> 3\. to the person wondering whether or not Thomas would find out the reason for Alex getting alcohol poisoning—your wish is my command
> 
>  
> 
> also I have an icon now it's the Schuyler sisters bc they SLAY


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You two are almost worse now than you were before you were dating,” Burr muttered, making a disgusted face.

“How was AA?” Laf asked. He was sprawled on Alex’s couch. John was there too,perched on the arm of the armchair.

“It was fine.” Alex said nonchalantly. He left out the details of his outburst against Abigail’s husband. “Honestly, I don’t really remember a lot of it. We sat in a circle and just...talked. Y’know, like a regular support group. The coffee was really good. Cheap, but good coffee.”

“See? It wasn’t terrible.” John said.

“Is this the part where you say ‘I told you so?’” Alex inquired drily, lobbing a balled-up scrap of paper at his best friend’s head. John dodged it easily.

“Hey, so I should tell you something,” Alex began to say, tugging on the ends of his sleeves nervously. He was wearing one of Thomas’s sweatshirts, and it was too big on him, like a lot of his sweaters were. Feeling like he could hide inside the oversized folds of fabric, like a turtle, was sort of weirdly comforting to him.

And the fact that this particular sweatshirt smelled just like Thomas was an added bonus.

John and Laf were watching him attentively. “You can tell us anything, you know that right?” John told him, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he gave Alex an encouraging smile.

Alex took a deep breath. “Okay, well, thanks John. Um, Jefferson and I are sort of...dating?” He attempted a smile, but it came out more of a grimace. He felt an all too familiar jittery, anxious feeling flood him as he waited for Laf and John to react to the news.

Lafayette leaped up off the couch and wrapped Alex in a tight hug, grinning ear-to-ear.

 _“Tu est trés mignon ensemble!_ Congratulations, Alexander!”

John was smiling too, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. “That's great. I'm happy for you, Alex,” he said. Alex moved to sit beside him on the couch, and took his hand. Alex leaned his head on John’s shoulder. “Thanks, John,” he responded softly.

There was a loud rapping sound, and it took Alex a moment to realize it was the door.

“It’s open.” Alex called. Moments later, Herc was making himself at home on the couch beside Lafayette, and Angelica and Peggy were taking up the loveseat.

“Isn’t that Thomas’s sweater?” Angelica asked suspiciously.

“No, no, I definitely played basketball in college.” Alex said. “Yeah, no, it’s Thomas's.”

“So you killed him and stole his sweater, right?” Herc joked. Laf shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “ _Non, chere_.”

Angelica looked back and forth between Laf and Alexander for a minute, then fixed her suspectful eyes on Alex.

“Laf is being weird and you're wearing Thomas’s sweater…” she said. “Shit. I owe Eliza twenty bucks.”

That was not the answer Alex was expecting. “Wait, you what?” he demanded.

“We had bets on whether or not you and Thomas would hook up on your own,” Angelica explained.

“You _what_?” Alex spluttered.

“We had a group chat where we planned how get you guys to realize your feelings for each other. But it seems you didn't need our help to find love.” Peggy sighed dramatically, resting her hand over her heart.

Alex shook his head. “You guys are the worst.”

John was frowning at them too. “I was not included in this group chat,” he said rather indignantly.

Laf shrugged apologetically. “You are Alexander’s best friend. You tell him everything.”

John opened his mouth to reply, but there was another knock at the door.

“Door’s open,” Alex shouted.

Thomas Jefferson, wearing his glasses and a pair of ridiculously well-fitting jeans, stepped inside the apartment.

Herc was staring at Alex, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Jefferson.” Alex greeted. A smile was tugging at the corners of Thomas’s mouth as he replied, “Hamilton.”

Peggy was giggling quietly.

“They had bets on us.” Alex explained.

“Did they?” Thomas raised his eyebrows at Alex’s friends. “So they all know…?”

“I'm not paying up until I get some proof.” Herc said, a sly gleam in his eye.

Alex grinned. “Okay.” Before Jefferson knew what was happening, Alex had his arms around him, pulling him down to his level roughly and planting his lips on Thomas’s. Thomas made a small noise of surprise, and then his hand was on the small of Alex's back, pulling him closer as they crushed their lips together. When they broke apart, Herc wolf-whistled appreciatively.

“Does that convince you?” Alex asked. There were grins and approving nods from everyone.

“Isn’t that my sweater?” Thomas asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Alex sighed. “It’s comfy. Even if it does smell like overpriced cologne.” he teased.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You love that cologne.”

“Do not. It smells like liquid money.”

“And here I was thinking you two would stop fighting if you got together.” Peggy sighed.

Alex looked over at John, a silent question in his eyes. John nodded to him, and this time his smile reached his eyes. Alex let out the breath he'd been holding in, feeling suddenly relieved.

Maria and Eliza arrived with the food minutes later, and they all sat down on the floor, Alex beside Thomas, leaning into him and laughing as Eliza cast them a quizzical look and then was told that Ange owed her twenty bucks.

“Good for you, Alex.” she told him. Alex felt himself blush.

“Oh, and Thomas? Let the record show that if you hurt one hair on his head, you'll have all of us to answer to. Right guys?” Maria said. Everyone else nodded in agreement, and Herc even cracked his knuckles threateningly.

Alex looked up at Thomas, who had gone very pale. He grinned. “They're not kidding, you know.” he teased.

“Yeah, I-I got that.” Thomas stammered.

“Are you really scared of them? They're just messing with you.” Eliza said consolingly.

“No, we’re not.” John said darkly.

“Them, I can take. But I'm pretty damn scared of Alex.” Alex looked at Thomas in surprise. “Really? You’ve got like, seven inches on me. I mean, in height.” He added hurriedly, realizing that that sentence could be interpreted another, worse, way.

“Let's just say I really don't wanna see any ‘ _Jefferson Pamphlets_ ’ around the workplace.” Thomas shrugged. Alex laughed, and Maria smiled, her cheeks flushing bright red.

Burr showed up late, right about when they were starting their movie.

“Does Burr owe anybody money?” Alex asked.

Herc shook his head. “Nah, he wasn't in on it.”

“In on what?” Burr frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“The bet on whether or not me and Thomas would fuck in your office.” Alex said, an evil little grin spreading over his face.

Angelica leaned over and kicked him. “Don't be mean.”

Burr had gone very, very pale.

“Hamilton’s just joking, Burr.” Thomas said in a consoling manner. “We did not fuck in your office, nor do we plan to.” Thomas then draped his arm around Alex’s shoulders. Alex leaned back, head in the crook of Thomas’s neck.

“You two are almost worse now than you were before you were dating,” Burr muttered, making a disgusted face.

Alex stuck his tongue out at him, and Thomas kissed his temple lightly. “You're such a child,” he murmured. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @starkscully
> 
> thanks so much for your comments/kudos/support I appreciate it ily guys <3


	22. Chapter 22

They put their movie on, and Alexander was sitting in Thomas’s lap, his phone in hand.

“Are you even watching?” Thomas asked him quietly.

Hamilton shook his head, didn't look up from his phone. “Tell me when it gets exciting.”

“What part of this movie isn't exciting? It's _Kingsman_ , for God’s sake.” Thomas muttered. Alex ignored him, nestling closer to Thomas so that he could lean his head against Thomas’s chest.

Thomas liked how well Alex fit into his lap, liked how he could curl his whole body around Hamilton when they slept. They slotted together like pieces of a puzzle. A puzzle with a very considerable height difference.

**_To:_ my dear laurens: ** u aren't mad at me or anything right??  
 **my dear laurens:** nah why?  
 ** _To:_ my dear laurens: **I mean when I first told u abt Thomas u seemed a little upset idk maybe it was just cause I was getting all anxious   
**my dear laurens:** u don't have to be scared to tell me stuff Alex :/ I'm your best friend ;)

**_To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** yo why is this group chat called ‘hamilsquad’  
 **my dear laurens:**...Thomas??  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** what up laurens  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** alex named this chat didn't he  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** what a pretentious little fuck  
 **and peggy:** ...when bae calls u cute nicknames.... #relationship goals amiright  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** hey peggy   
**my dear laurens:** hey Thomas does Alex still scream during sex   
**horse fucker:** sssh I'm trying to watch the movie

**_To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** mulligan? why is your contact name horse fucker

**horse fucker:** wait wHAT  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** and John yes he does he's really loud  
 **horse fucker:** HAMILTON YOU DID NOT  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** I'm back Thomas took my phone  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** asshole  
 ** _To:_ HAMILSQUAD: **and Thomas was jOKING ABOUT ME SCREAMING DURING SEX THAT WAS A J O K E ITS NOT TRUE   
**my dear laurens:** Alex half of us on here have had sex with u at least once and can confirm what Thomas said   
**_To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** fuk off john   
**_To:_ HAMILSQUAD: ** Thomas screams too just so you know   
**marquis de la baguette:** c’est vrai   
**_To:_ HAMILSQUAD: **lmao  
 **horse fucker:** HORSE FUCKER ALEX SERIOUSLY IT WAS ONE TIME   
**_To:_ HAMILSQUAD:** bahahahaha

Alex looked up from his phone. “So what'd I miss? Please tell me I didn't miss the church scene.”

“You didn't miss the church scene. Now put your phone away and watch the goddamn movie.” Thomas told him, giving him a stern look.

“Don't tell me what to do.”

“Do I have to kinkshame you guys?” Peggy asked, glancing over at them. “You whisper very loud.” she explained with an apologetic shrug.

“Yeah, guys, shut up. We’re trying to watch the movie,” Herc chastised.

Alex chuckled and snuggled closer to Thomas, who wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled fondly at him. 

* * *

“Okay, so this week we’ve moved on to step eleven. You know what that is?”

Alex was clinging to Thomas’s arm as they strolled down the street, bundled up in a handmade wool sweater, a black parka, earmuffs, and a knitted scarf.

His breath was making little clouds in the chilly early winter air with every exhale.

The scarf and the sweater were from Herc. Mulligan had also gifted Thomas with a scarf and a pair of mittens. He didn't have the heart to tell Hercules that he found the mittens ugly, and very itchy, but he carried them around in his coat pocket because he felt bad.

Thomas took another sip of his Starbucks coffee. “No, I don't remember. You did tell me all twelve steps but you were doing that thing where you talk super fast and then get distracted and start talking about something totally different.”

Alex huffed impatiently. “Okay, well, this week, every day, I'm supposed to meditate and pray to further understand my relationship with God. Or something like that.”

“Well, you're fairly religious. Yet you sound annoyed by being made to pray.” Thomas was using his debate voice, and Alex took notice.

“I'm not annoyed. I just…just listen for a sec, okay? I believe in God, but I’ve never been like, religiously observant. I never paid much attention in church. The idea that a true Christian has to obey the commandments to the letter, pray daily, observe all the sacraments...the showy, flashy parts of religion—I think all that's very unnecessary. One’s relationship with God should be an ordinary and simple thing.”

Watching him like this, getting fired up, his dark hair spilling out from underneath his fuzzy earmuffs, his cocoa-brown eyes bright, cheeks rosy from the cold and from the debate, made Thomas feel warm inside despite the frigid air. 

“Well, I don't believe in God myself so I can't really agree or disagree with you.” Thomas took another sip of his coffee, and Alex made a face.

“I can't believe you drink that stuff. It's not even coffee. It's pure sugar.”

“You're just mad you can't afford fancy coffee drinks.” Thomas said. “I would've bought you one, y’know.”

“What are you, my sugar daddy?” Alex snorted. “By the way, you're really rocking that whipped cream moustache you’ve got there.”

Thomas stopped in his tracks, checking his reflection in a store window. He was searching his pockets for a napkin to wipe the whipped cream off—he could've sworn he had a Kleenex or something in one of these pockets—when Alex was kissing him, his lips against Thomas’s and his arm around Thomas’s waist, as his tongue flicked out and licked the whipped cream away.

“That was...a little gross.” Thomas chuckled.

“Well, you left your silk handkerchief at home. I was improvising.” Alex replied with a chuckle of his own. “And the worst part is that that wasn't even a joke. You actually own several silk handkerchiefs. I fucking hate you.”

Thomas liked Alex’s laugh. Breathy, slightly higher-pitched than his usual tone of voice. It was almost a giggle. They'd been together for two months and he still felt a little thrill every time Alex laughed, or smiled, or did that thing where he dragged a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes.

Alex linked his arm with Thomas’s once more, gulped down the last of his own coffee, which was regular old coffee, black, not even any cream or sugar. Thomas didn't know how Alex could drink his coffee like that, with nothing to mask the bitter taste, but the guy’s bloodstream _was_ 75% caffeine.

They ambled along in silence for once, Alexander resting his head on Thomas’s arm.

Then Alex burst out laughing, and the silence was broken. Thomas sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“The eleventh step is basically the therapists trying to get us to pray the gay away. Except instead of gay people we’re alcoholics. I mean, I'm also gay. Very, very gay. But you get the idea.”

Thomas shook his head, not sure whether to feel bemused or exasperated by his boyfriend. Eventually he settled on pulling Alex closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shivering shoulders.

  
“Are you cold? We can head back if you want. I don't have to get the Christmas gifts today—”

“I'm fine.” Alexander insisted, leaning closer to Thomas.

“Okay.” Thomas murmured, bending down to kiss the top of Alex’s head. “Love you.”

“Mm. Love you too,” Alex replied softly. “Dickhead,” he added quickly. Thomas grinned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone liked this?? thank you for reading and commenting and just like,,,your love n appreciation in general ily guys 
> 
> hmu on tumblr anytime @starkscully


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